


The Legend of Elsa

by Rinjin



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 23:44:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 319,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1366114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinjin/pseuds/Rinjin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Medieval AU where Anna is raised by trolls, completely ignorant of the human world. By chance, she meets a young icer named Kristoff, and comes to learn about human society, where she develops an ambition for becoming a knight. Eventual Elsanna (extremely slow burn). Rated M for some violence and adult themes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

 

Princess Elsa awoke with a start. It was in the dead of night, and outside murmured a balmy summer storm. She heard the soft patter of rain and the warm rumble of thunder. Slowly, she sat upright. There was a cold sweat on her brow. She looked around the dark room. She spent so much time in here that she could make out every detail therein with a fine precision, even in the gloom of the night. Everything was still.

She turned her head to look at the large, triangular window to her left. Occasionally, the window lit up in time with the distant sound of thunder. The rain fell against the window in a steady rhythm, though its tempo paled in comparison to that of Elsa’s beating heart.

She had the dream again. It went the way it always did, which meant that Elsa dreaded it more and more with each passing night. Even the way she felt when it began, before the event, even that was now touched by a dark worry. Every pounded mound of snow, every immaculate snowflake, every look of wonder - she still treasured those, but she mourned - so much - the cost. The cost was too great.

She experienced the dream at least once a fortnight, it seemed. Before that, it had been every other night. And before that, her every waking hour was plagued by the memory. She thought that she might never be happy again. She didn’t take meals at first. She lost weight. She became sick. In her feverish sleeps, she muttered always, “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry…”

It had been some time now. In the day, nobody saw her. All her tears were behind a marble dam, her face carved from the same stone. She would raise her chin and cite her duty. She was the model of elegant royalty: poised, pristine, professional, and perfect. The singers sang of her beauty. Lords and ladies came to court to praise her: the beautiful princess, heiress apparent of the Kingdom of Arendelle.

But some nights, the dam broke. The marble cracked and shattered. It was better that she was alone when it did. She still hated herself for it. It had been so many years.

“Touched,” said the shadows in her dream, and they nodded in unison. She hated the shadows.

“It will only get worse,” said another shadow.

“Only one solution,” said yet another shadow.

“Or else, you let come what may,” warned the shadows.

“No,” said her father. “We’ll do what we must.”

“Please, Father,” said Elsa. The fear drowned her. She was choking on every word. “I promise… I… I’ll be good. Please. I’m sorry.”

Her father looked her full in the face, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He knelt down and embraced her, his face buried in her platinum locks, but his arms felt cold. They always felt cold.

“It’s not your fault, honey,” her father murmured into her hair. She tried not to cry, but she always did.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be good. I promise. I’m sorry.”

She wondered if she had been sorry enough. What she might have done to prove it, she still didn’t know. When she cried, her tears froze the ground beneath her feet. She hated herself for that. She wanted to hit herself, pull out her hair, anything.And then she would awake, just as she and her parents drove away, her last plaintive screams drowned out by the patter of horse-hooves and the thundering in her chest.

Her heart felt heavy that night. It had been a long time since she had cast ice. She had attempted to bargain with this, once upon a time, but her parents just shook their heads. There was nothing they could do, and she knew they were right. It was for the best, really.

Elsa threw the covers off and slid out of bed. She walked over to the window and looked out at the falling rain. Raindrops slid down the window, each one tracing a different treacherous path across the polished glass. A flick of the wrist and they’d all be snowflakes. She couldn’t bring herself to do it, however. She wasn’t sure she still could, and she did not want to. The cost had been too great. She looked at herself in the glass, icy blue eyes boring deep into her own. Her lower lip trembled slightly.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the storm, and still the rain fell, and the thunder rolled, and night turned into day.


	2. The Wild Girl

Anna wasn’t like the other trolls. She was much taller, for starters. She towered over even the oldest of the trolls. Sometimes the other trolls would make a game of measuring her in their own height. They would climb on each other's heads, tottering about and trying to line up next to Anna. They rarely managed to stand still enough to accomplish the task, but sometimes they did. There was a lot of arguing about standing on tip-toes in those cases. Even when they didn’t get around to measuring, Anna had fun watching the trolls tumble, and mostly she ended up joining them.

She was different from the trolls in other ways as well. While they were short and squat, she was tall and slender. While they had stony gray complexions and big round noses, she had skin like a fair summer peach and a small, petite nose. While they had hair like tufts of grass and moss, she had long, frizzled hair, like a wildfire. While they had skin as hard as stone, she was cut easily by sticks and thorns. In fact, Anna was so unlike the other trolls that it puzzled her greatly. The Wise Troll told her she was a special snowflake, and unique, like all things that live under the sun, moon, and stars. But still, he never called her a troll. He just called her Anna.

For the most part, it didn’t bother Anna; it was only a matter of natural curiosity. The trolls were everything to her, after all. They insisted she call them “family.” They showed her the forest. They taught her how to catch animals, and forage for berries, and dig roots, and intimidate predators.

“Bears, now, bears are dangerous,” said Loot, an amiable troll who walked with a constant swagger. “Myself, I’ve only beaten bears a dozen times. If they get you, their bites can chip your skin something fierce. Take at least a day to heal. The best way to fight a bear is to find a large log-”

“You’re so dumb, Loot,” interrupted Rain, a troll with long, blue, grassy hair and an exceptionally big nose. “Anna doesn’t have rock skin. If a bear sees you, Anna honey, holler as loud as you can and raise your arms up high. If you can, grab some long sticks and wave those around. If you look big, it scares the bear, and a scared bear won’t do anything.”

As much as she learned about the lore of the forest, the trolls didn’t have much passion for exploring, which frustrated Anna. For her part, she often wandered far into the forest. Most of the time, her expeditions were limited to the nighttime, so she hooted at the owls and tried to catch mice. It was harder than it looked. She felt sorry for the mice the owls caught up, but she knew they had to eat somehow.

One time, however, she wanted to see the forest while it was still light out. So, in the late afternoon on one fine spring day, she woke up and crept away from the village, dashing into the forest as silent as a mouse.

The birds of daytime seemed to herald her coming, as they chirped and tweeted, and the forest came alive with all kinds of delightful sounds that she never heard during the night. At night, owls and crickets sang; but in the day, the whole forest seemed to hum with music.

After so many dark nights running through thick underbrush and jumping over gnarled roots and rocks, navigating the forest by day was much easier. She found she could double her ranging distance in the light of the sun. She went far, further than she ever had before, and found a shady clearing towered over by the mightiest tree she had ever seen. It was a broadleaf tree with big green leaves, and branches that hung low. Grabbing the lowest branch she could reach, she swung herself up and climbed the tree.

When she reached the top, she poked her head through the canopy and looked at the forest around her. An endless field of green, trees tall and short and green, rolling with hills. Off in the north, she could see a huge, white hill with a pointed top, wreathed in clouds. She knew it for the North Mountain. To the east, she saw a river flowing south. She felt thirsty.

She climbed down the tree and walked east, to the river. She had reached a thick pine when she heard a grumbling, guttural noise that made a chill run down her spine. She walked around the pine and saw the river. Next to the river, a young fawn was standing, still as a statue. And then Anna saw it, an enormous brown bear stalking the fawn.

Anna supposed that the bear had chased the fawn for a while now, as the little thing’s chest was rising and falling rapidly and it was out of breath. It was trapped between the river and the bear, and Anna swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. This is nature, Anna thought to herself.

The bear was creeping up to the fawn, which was too tired or too scared to move, and Anna wanted to close her eyes and flee. Bears can run fast and climb faster, she knew, but a bear wouldn’t give up a prized deer fawn for a little troll girl like herself. She could escape. But she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the scene unfolding before her.

Scare the bear. A surge of adrenaline rushed through her. She glanced quickly around, and saw two heavy branches that had fallen from the thick pine. She picked them up and screamed as loud as she could, waving the branches above her head and crashing them together.

The bear whirled around as Anna yelled and waved the branches. It stood up on its hind legs and bellowed, but Anna kept on yelling and banging the branches together.

An eternity seemed to pass there, as the two of them stood off. Then, without another growl or roar, the bear lowered itself back down to four legs and sauntered off. When the bear was fully gone from sight, Anna turned to the fawn. She realized that she was shaking, now; her, not the fawn, who was still unmoving.

The fawn looked at her for a moment, and then hopped away into the forest, in the opposite direction from the bear.

Anna made her way back home, and the sun was setting by the time she re-entered the village. The trolls asked where she had been, and she described her encounter with the bear. The Wise Troll was furious.

“Why in the name of the Earthmother would you provoke a bear like that?” he scolded.

“I was afraid for the deer,” Anna said.

“You could have been killed, Anna. Bears are unpredictable. Who told you to act that way around bears?”

Reluctantly, Anna explained what Loot and Rain had told her. The Wise Troll scolded them too, grabbing them by the ears. He forced them to work laundry duty that night. Rain felt bad, but Loot was so proud.

“I knew it, she takes after me,” he proclaimed triumphantly as he washed grass skirts in the stream. “Before you know it, Anna will have a dozen bear conquests under her belt. Why, I remember my first bear-”

“Don’t encourage her,” hissed Rain.

From that point on, Anna was forbidden to stray too far from the village, but this did nothing to diminish her wanderlust. As she got older, her curiosity grew stronger, as did her perplexity that she wasn’t like the other trolls. A queer feeling nibbled at her heart, one that told her she’d find no answer if she stayed, as the trolls did, in the forest.

One early morning, she was out near the brook, gathering berries for supper. It was just first light, and thin tendrils of pink and red sunshine played across the water. She loved the mornings. Though she usually turned around at daybreak, and finished her gathering, on that morning a mischievous thought crossed her mind. She could get away with just a few more minutes, she reasoned, nobody would notice; and so she went further up the stream than she ever had before. She came upon a section of the stream that was crossed by a narrow, brown, dirt pathway that twisted into the forest on both sides.

It was while she was standing there and investigating the pathway – she supposed it must be a road, though she had never seen one before – that she heard a faint rattling noise. She turned to look and saw something swerving down the path: a small reindeer, in front of a flat, wooden board with a curved end. Straps of leather hung around the reindeer’s neck and back, and were tied to the front end of the board, and on the board sat a troll – a troll who looked a lot like herself.

The troll pulled on the leather strips and the reindeer slowed to a stop, right next to her. It was a brown reindeer with a shaggy mane and two stubby antlers. It began sniffing Anna excitedly. Anna had an enormous fondness for animals, but right now she was looking at the troll with pale skin like hers and thin hair like hers, although this troll had hair that looked somewhat golden, almost yellow. He had a nose somewhat like the other trolls’, though it wasn’t quite as round. And his eyes were light brown, though her own were blue.

“Hi!” she said almost immediately, waving at the golden troll. “Wow! I’ve never seen another troll like you before!”

The troll’s eyes were narrowed before, but now they became as wide as saucers. “What? I’m not a troll!” he squawked in an indignant, boyish voice.

“Don’t think you can fool me, mister troll. I’m 9!” She held up nine fingers to demonstrate her point. She grinned.

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m 10.” He stuck out his chin at her. “If I’m a troll, what does that make you?”

“I’m a troll, too!”

The golden troll looked flummoxed at that. “No, you’re not. You’re a human, like me.”

Anna raised an eyebrow. “What’s a human?”

The golden troll opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out for a moment. “Ah,” he uttered, after several seconds’ thought. “It’s what we are.”

“But we’re trolls.”

“No, we’re humans,” he said impatiently.

Anna frowned. “You’re not making any sense, mister troll.”

“I’m not a troll, and I have a name, you know,” said the troll with a frustrated sigh. “My name is Kristoff, and this here is my best pal, Sven.” He gestured to the tiny reindeer.

“Oh! My name is Anna.” She bowed. “Nice to meet you, Kristoff.” She turned to the reindeer and bowed again. “Nice to meet you, Sven.”

Sven the reindeer licked her face, and she giggled. “I’ve never seen a girl bow before,” said Kristoff.

“Really?” said Anna. “You must come from a very rude tribe.”

“I do not,” said Kristoff hotly. “Where I come from, girls curtsy.”

“What’s a curtsy?” Anna thought of curtains, but she didn’t know how that related to bowing. Maybe in this golden troll’s tribe, it was customary for lady-trolls to present someone with a curtain instead of bowing? It would be a bother to carry some curtains around all the time, though. What if you had to meet a lot of people in a single day?

Kristoff gaped for a moment, and then he threw his head back and laughed. “You’re funny, Anna.” He smiled at her. She smiled back, but she didn’t know what was amusing him so much. “Anyway, it was nice meeting you,” he continued, “but I have to get this ice into town pronto, so I can’t stay any longer.” He patted a cube of ice that sat on the wooden plank behind him. It was fastened to the plank with ropes tied in several large knots.

“Okay, Mr. Kristoff! Goodbye!” said Anna, and she bowed again. He laughed once more and took up the leather strips that were tied to Sven. He flexed them and said “Mush!” and the reindeer broke into a trot, pulling Kristoff and his ice. The both of them continued jostling down the path, the rattling of the plank becoming fainter and fainter as they pulled out of sight.

Anna watched them go, and then she took her berries and ran back down along the muddy stream towards her village. The sun was two fingers above the horizon by the time she got back. She deposited her berries with the berry master, who started mashing them up, and ran among the gray, thatched huts and grassy roofs of the troll village.

The trolls had an exceptional talent for hiding things in plain sight, and nowhere was this more apparent than in the construction of their elusive towns. In seemingly empty clearings and sections of wood, troll structures rose out of the ground, woven together with trees and bushes and brambles that played tricks on the eyes. They were always the color of their surroundings. Most humans had trouble noticing the trolls themselves, to say nothing of their villages, but Anna had a trained eye.

She ran up to the biggest hut, one which sat cozily between two large, silver-trunked pines. She parted the entry curtain – a thick tangle of moss and vines – and entered. The hut had a low ceiling that almost touched the top of Anna’s head, and the ground was simple dirt. In the middle of the hut, a stone circle surrounded a mess of burning twigs. She looked across the fire to see the old, speckled troll sitting on the other side.

The troll had a long, mossy beard and a thick tuft of grass on his head. He wore beads and the fangs of wild animals around his neck, and in his right hand he clutched a staff that was no more than a long, thin stick with a carved stone tied hanging to one end. Draped over him was a thick, dark green cloak of leaves. He greeted Anna as she entered his hut. “Anna! How was your foraging?”

“Wise Troll!” she said. “I met another troll who looks like me.”

His eyes narrowed at that. “Really? Where?”

“Along the stream. I found a dirt path that must be a road and I was looking at it when a reindeer and a troll with golden hair came up to me. They were using the road and everything, and the reindeer was pulling the troll, and he was sitting on a wooden plank and he had a block of ice. I know you said I shouldn’t stray too far from the village, but I didn’t go that far, honest! I just went a teensy bit further than usual!” Anna finished her speech with a look of feigned innocence that she hoped was convincing.

The old troll’s eyes softened and he stroked his mossy beard. He rumbled out a sigh that sounded like grinding oats. “I don’t believe you met a troll, my dear.”

Anna cocked her head. “Huh? He said that he was a ‘human,’ but I didn’t know what that meant.”

The Wise Troll was now staring at the fire. “I knew this day would come. Anna, do you know why you aren’t like the rest of the trolls here?”

Anna thought it was a trick question. “Because I’m unique and we’re all special snowflakes?” she recited tentatively.

He nodded. “Yes, that’s true, but you’re not a troll. You’re a human.”

“What’s a human?”

“It’s what you are.”

The Wise Troll stood up on his two stubby feet, and walked around the firepit. He took Anna by the hands and looked up at her, his gray eyes meeting her own.

“It’s time you learned the truth, my dear. You were not born of the Earthmother, like us trolls. You had two human parents. They were like you.”

“Parents?” repeated Anna, blinking in confusion. “Like me? Can I meet them?”

“I’m afraid not, Anna, dear.” He sounded upset, and after a moment he said, not unkindly, “You’re an orphan.”

“What’s that?” asked Anna.

The Wise Troll rubbed his temples sullenly with his thumb and forefinger. “It’s getting late,” he said. “You should go to bed.”

Anna wondered a lot about what the Wise Troll had said. She wasn’t sure what it meant. She went to sleep that morning thinking about parents, and had the oddest dream that day about snowy fields. When she woke the next evening, she asked some of the others, but very few seemed to have any idea what an “orphan” was.

“I think they call you an orphan when you have no family,” said Braffly, a troll bigger than most by half – both in girth and height.

“That can’t be it,” said Anna. “I have a family. I have all of you.”

“Hmm…” Braffly thought long and hard about this. His broad, coarse face scrunched up in deep consideration. “I guess I don’t know what an orphan is, then.”

Towards the end of the night, when dawn was breaking, Anna went foraging again. Just like the previous morning, she went far up the brook to where the path crossed the stream. And she waited.

Sure enough, it was soon after first light that Kristoff and his reindeer came sliding down the pathway again, rattling as they had done the previous morning. Kristoff saw her and waved, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey!” he called. “Wild girl!”

Anna puffed out her cheeks and crossed her arms. “Human!” she called back. She tried to make it sound mocking, but somehow it didn’t work; in spite of herself, she was beaming.

Kristoff pulled the leather straps attached to Sven, and the reindeer stopped right next to her. She looked at the wooden plank and noticed that this time he had no ice. Kristoff walked over to her, still beaming, and bowed low.

“Wild girl?” she repeated.

He straightened up, chuckling. “Look at you! You’re a regular forest child.”

She hadn’t taken into account the difference between her and Kristoff’s clothes, but now that she thought about it, it was rather jarring. She was wearing her usual green tunic of woven moss, and her legs were covered by a grassy skirt. Kristoff, by contrast, was wearing a pale yellow-gray tunic and had what looked like was a sheepskin draped over it. Around his waist, a knotted rope held up the strangest skirt she’d ever seen: a pale brown hunk of leather that covered both legs separately, all the way down to his shins. He was wearing two thick brown skins on his feet, and she was barefoot.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve never seen anyone dressed in grass before. Who taught you to dress like that?”

“My family,” she said, her cheeks feeling warm. Was he making fun of her?

“Your family?” he said. “I’d like to meet them. Where do they live?”

“At the cairn,” she said, using the name they taught her for the stone clearing they slept in during the day.

Kristoff looked surprised to hear this. “The cairn?” he echoed. Anna nodded. “So, then… they wouldn’t be… are they… trolls?” His voice squeaked as the question tumbled out of his mouth. Anna nodded once again, but more slowly this time.

He seemed to take a few moments to collect his thoughts. “I see. I guess you really are a forest child.”

“The Wise Troll says I’m an orphan,” said Anna. Kristoff frowned, but Anna kept talking. “Do you… know what that means?”

Kristoff looked sad. “It means your parents are dead.”

“What are parents?”

“Y’know… parents!” Kristoff waved his arms around as if “parents” would spring from the forest and explain for him. “A lot of people have ‘em. I don’t, though, actually, because I’m an orphan too.” For a moment he looked dejected, but perked up just as quickly and patted Sven. “I don’t need parents though. I’ve got Sven, and Mr. Oaken helps keep me out of trouble.”

“Where do you live?” asked Anna curiously.

“In town.”

“What’s a town?”

“Uh,” Kristoff scratched his head. “It’s a place where a lot of people live.”

“Oh,” said Anna, understanding coming over her. “Kind of like the troll village, but for humans? Do humans all live in houses, too?”

“Mostly,” said Kristoff with a nervous smile.

Anna nodded. She looked at Kristoff’s sled and noticed the lack of ice. “So…” she said conversationally, “no ice this morning, huh?”

Kristoff’s eyes lit up at the mention of ice. “Yeah, ice is a bit unpredictable sometimes. Some mornings, the icers don’t have any ice to send back to town.” He shrugged helplessly.

They continued talking for a little while, exchanging questions and answers, until Anna remembered she had to get back to the village before sun-up. She bade Kristoff goodbye, and ran back down the stream, head swimming with fantastic notions about human villages.

Over the next few weeks, Anna came to the stream in the mornings to meet and talk with Kristoff, when he crossed. She asked him a lot of questions about town, but he was happy to oblige her. The way he described it, she decided she would like to live in a town filled with other people like her. She might even like to have a pet reindeer, or to deliver ice every morning. She wasn’t so sure about sleeping at night, though.

One evening, she went to the Wise Troll and asked what he knew about the human town.

“I know very little about the human town, dear,” he said. “I’ve never been there before.”

“Oh,” said Anna, feeling crestfallen. “I thought I might like to visit. The way Kristoff describes it, it sounds so intriguing.”

The troll eyed her for a moment, and grunted. “You know why us trolls don’t wander, right, Anna?”

“Because a rolling stone gathers no moss,” Anna recited.

“And that’s all we trolls are made of,” he said with a solemn chortle, running his thick fingers through his mossy beard. “But you – you are a human after all. Oh, very well. I suppose it can’t be helped. You may visit the town if you stay out of trouble.”

Anna couldn’t help it: a huge smile crept across her face. “Do you really mean it?” she squeaked.

He smiled at her. “Yes, my dear, I do. But remember that humans sleep at night, so you will need to rest up before dawn so that you can stay awake during the day.”

Anna agreed, and that morning she asked Kristoff about arranging a trip into town. She was so excited that she skipped up the brook, and when Kristoff and Sven came rattling into view, she bounded forward to meet them.

“Wild girl!” said Kristoff, as he dismounted his sled. It was called a toboggan, Anna had learned, that wooden plank. Usually it was used on snow, but Kristoff said it was only this last leg of his daily commute where the ground wasn't snowy.

“Hi, Kristoff!” she said, as she bounced up and down.

“So,” he said with a broad smile, “what’s got you in such a good mood?”

“The Wise Troll said I can visit the town with you!” she blurted.

“That’s great!” he said, and now he seemed as excited as she was. “I can’t wait for you to meet everyone. Do you want to go now?”

She nodded at first, but then she stopped and shook her head. “No, well, yes, I do – it’s just that the Wise Troll says I should get some sleep before I go into town.”

“Oh, all right, then,” he said with a nod. “How about tomorrow, maybe?”

The next morning, a well-rested Anna perched behind Kristoff on his toboggan. They were moving quickly, more quickly than Anna had ever moved before, as the sled bumped and rattled down the dirt road. At first, Anna was scared; but then she decided that she liked the feel of the wind in her hair.

On the way to town, Kristoff talked a lot about how excited he was to show Anna to everyone. Apparently, the people in town, and the good Mr. Oaken, didn’t believe there was really a forest girl wandering around the cairn.

“Why don’t they come to the cairn and see for themselves?” asked Anna.

“They’re scared of ghosts and ghost stories,” Kristoff mocked. “Not me, though. The only thing that wears a white sheet and scares me is the North Mountain.” He shuddered involuntarily.

“What’s so scary about the North Mountain?” The first time Anna had ever seen that mountain, she thought it looked beautiful. It was isolated, towering over the nearby hills and valleys, almost impossible in its tallness. Wispy clouds caught on the peak like wet clothes on a tree branch. And the mountain was always impeccably white. The North Mountain was alone, but stronger than anything and everything else around it. She asked the trolls about it, and they just said it was an old place wherein dwelt the spirits of old things.

Kristoff laughed, but he sounded anxious. “Have you ever seen it before?”

“It looks pretty, I think,” said Anna, after a brief pause.

“Yeah,” said Kristoff, dreamy for a moment. “Ice and snow… but they say that mountain whispers.”

“Isn’t that just another ghost story?” She heard a lot of such stories from the trolls: tales of snowy apparitions and woodland tricksters, mostly harmless spirits that some called ghosts. Spirits were shy by nature, and Anna had never seen one before, but sometimes the stories gave her gooseprickles all the same.

“It’s different!” replied Kristoff, his face turning red. “I’ve heard the whispers before, myself. Sometimes when I look at the mountain, I feel like it’s looking back at me.” He shuddered. “I wouldn’t climb it for all the gold in the world.”

They rode on mostly in silence after that, only interrupted when Kristoff remembered something else about the town that he thought Anna should know. She was starting to tune him out, though, as she looked at the forest whipping all around them, and listened to the sound of morningbirds beginning to chirp and tweet with greater vigor. She had never heard a mountain whisper before, and now she wanted to.

After a while, Kristoff began talking about the larger world, other towns, and even cities. Anna asked what a city was, and Kristoff said “I suppose it’s just a really big town.” He told her about a city that sat near the ocean, and in the city was a great castle, and there was a marketplace where people gathered from all over to trade things. The oddest feeling came over Anna as Kristoff talked, like a feather tickling at the corner of her mind. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“…it’s truly the greatest city in Arendelle,” Kristoff gushed. “I’d like to live there some day.”

“What’s Arendelle?”

For not the first time, Kristoff gaped over his shoulder at her; she was used to that look. But he must have become used to Anna’s ignorance on such matters, though, because he recovered faster than was typical for him. “Arendelle is the Kingdom! It’s all this that surrounds us!” He gestured dramatically at the trees and bushes that were flying past, at the sky above, and at the mountains off in the distance.

“I thought that was called ‘Earth’,” said Anna.

Kristoff was exasperated. “Yeah, OK, the whole world is called Earth,” he said, drawing out the word “whole” in an exaggerated fashion. “But this land, that we live on, it’s part of the Kingdom of Arendelle.”

“Oh,” said Anna. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is that this Kingdom is ruled over by the Royal Family of House Arendelle,” said Kristoff. “I’ve never seen them before, but they live in a big castle in the city, and everybody loves them.”

“What do they do?” asked Anna.

“They rule,” said Kristoff. “They build the towns and the cities and the boats and the castles, and people do what they say, and they catch criminals and defend the kingdom against evil.”

“Kind of like the Wise Troll?” Anna offered. It didn’t sound exactly like the kind of things the Wise Troll did, as he certainly didn’t do any building, but the other trolls often did what he asked.

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” said Kristoff, putting one finger on his chin. “Except they’re more… y’know, more.” Anna didn’t know more what, but Kristoff didn’t say anything else.

A short while later, Kristoff exclaimed loudly. Anna looked over his shoulder just as they were passing over the crest of a hill. On the other side, the dirt path wound between a cluster of houses with slanted roofs. They looked a little like the troll huts, except they were taller, wider, and seemed to be made of sturdier stuff. She noticed that the foundations of the buildings were made of densely packed stone, rising just a foot or two over the ground, and on top of those rocky bases were logs and wooden planks that constituted the rest of the houses.

As Kristoff and Anna slid into town, rattling on their sled, they passed in front of one wooden house that was set further away from the rest. Anna saw the entryway, to her amazement, wasn’t a curtain at all but another plank of wood with a curved wooden handle mounted on it. In front of the door, a lettered sign was hanging down from a protruding section of roof above.

“Oa… ken’s…” Anna sounded out, not knowing until after she did that the symbols on the sign seemed to make sense to her.

This time, Kristoff’s astonishment pushed his voice into shriller registers. “You can read?” he squeaked.

Before Anna had any time to respond, the door to the house exploded outwards, swinging on two creaky wooden hinges, and a huge wall of a man stepped through the threshold. Anna had never seen such a tall troll before - er, well, human, she supposed. For that matter, she had never seen such a wide human before. He was wearing a pine green wool sweater and a thick pair of brown leather overalls. On his head, a shaggy mane of light auburn hair was barely covered by a cap that was too small. His face was wide, and every part of it seemed to smile: his big mouth, his green eyes, and his thin, wispy mustache.

“Hoo-hoo!” he tinkled in a voice that didn’t suit his frame in the slightest. He lifted a huge hand and wiggled his fingers at them. “Kristoff! I see you have my ice, _ja_?”

Kristoff stammered out a confirmation.

“Very good,” he said, and he turned his head to look at Anna. “Hoo! And I suppose this is your friend, the wild girl, _ja_?”

Anna hopped up off the sled and bowed to the huge man. “My name’s Anna. Pleased to meet you!”

The huge man bowed back. “My name’s Oaken, m’lady. The pleasure’s all mine. Kristoff has told us so much about you, _ja_?” He straightened up again, and turned to address Kristoff once more. “Kristoff, would you please bring the ice to the cellar? You know where it goes.”

“Y-yeah, of course, Mr. Oaken,” said Kristoff as he gathered himself. He saluted Oaken awkwardly and drove Sven around behind the house, bumping off the trail and onto the green grass wet with dew.

When Kristoff was gone from sight, Oaken looked at Anna and studied her for a long moment. His face became unreadable as his previous grin transformed into a horizontal line. “So, Kristoff says you live in the forest, _ja_?”

“That’s right,” said Anna happily. She decided that she liked Oaken, and his attitude, and his funny way of talking, and his too-small hat.

“Near the cairn?”

“Yep!”

“With trolls?”

“Uh-huh!”

Oaken put a big hand on his jaw, and stroked his chin. “But you aren’t a forest child, are you?” he asked in a soft voice.

“I don’t know what that is,” said Anna. “But Kristoff says I can’t be because I’m an orphan.”

Oaken nodded. “ _Ja_ , I see,” he hummed out.

After a few moments’ silence, Anna asked: “Oaken, sir, what is a forest child?”

Oaken seemed to brighten up at that. “An old myth,” he said, smiling once more. “It says that the children of the forest are spirits that bring good luck, and look just like human children, but dress in grass and leaves instead of hides and leathers.”

It was Anna’s turn to light up. “Ohhh, I see,” she said. “My family tells myths and stories, too! I’ve never heard any about forest children, but they talk sometimes about forest spirits, which sound kind of similar, and they also tell stories about goblins and ghosts and stuff like that, and also dragons and big animals and hidden places and forest monsters…” Her voice trailed off. She hadn’t talked to very many humans, and the way Oaken didn’t interrupt her made her uneasy.

“Hoo-hoo, a fellow enthusiast!” Oaken said, an amused expression crossing his face. “ _Ja_ , Kristoff told me so much about you that I just had to see for myself if the stories were true.”

“My family says that myths and stories are often more true than we care to know,” said Anna.

“Maybe,” said Oaken, now playing with his mustache, “but anyway, they are fun, _ja_?”

Anna had to agree, and Oaken began talking about his favorite stories, and the books that he learned about them from. The more he talked, the more Anna began to wonder about “books” and how they could tell a story.

“What’s a book?” Anna interrupted.

“That’s right,” said Oaken, realization spreading across his face. “I suppose you haven’t seen many books in the forest.” He looked sad for a moment. “And I bet you can’t read, either. That’s a shame, _ja_?”

Now Anna was more confused than ever. She was about to ask another question when Kristoff appeared from behind the house, with Sven trotting jauntily at his heels. Unlike Sven, who looked as happy as a clam, Kristoff had the look of someone who had just lugged a heavy block of ice down a steep set of stairs.

“Kristoff, good work today,” said Oaken, beaming at the doleful boy. “I think you’ve earned the rest of the morning to yourself. Why don’t you show Anna around our town, _ja_?”

Kristoff perked up at that, and so did Sven, so Oaken sent the three of them off to go explore the human village.

Anna, who had grown quite accustomed to the beauty of the forest, was stirred by the strangeness of the human village. There was a logic to it, etched in the straight lines and the sharp corners of the wooden houses. It was nothing like the forest, where rocks, trees, rivers, hills, stumps, logs, bugs, birds, and rabbits sat in haphazard fashion wherever they pleased, tumbled about by water and wind and time.

Anna followed Kristoff and Sven as they walked among the houses and the people, tall and strange and wonderful. They all greeted Anna kindly, and they were very polite, although Anna was struck by their strange activities and stared without meaning to.

One man, a stout auburn-haired person with a crooked nose and soft, green eyes, was chopping apart logs of wood with a curved, metal instrument. He told Anna that she had pretty hair. “Reminds me of me dear old mum’s,” he said with a wistful sigh, chopping another log in half.

A short woman was sitting on a stool, vigorously pumping away at what Kristoff called a “butter churn.” She told a joke that made Anna laugh.

One lady with blonde hair and a pretty white dress gave Sven a carrot, but when Sven threatened to eat the whole thing by himself, Kristoff scolded him for “not sharing” and ate the rest. Anna thought that was funny.

A few of the townspeople asked questions, like “where are you from?” and those who did only smiled when she described her family and the trolls. But one man with dark eyes and black hair demanded to know where Anna was “really” from, and Anna didn’t understand what he meant. When he realized no answer was forthcoming, he stalked off, brooding.

“Don’t mind him,” said Kristoff, frowning and giving Anna a friendly pat on the back. “That’s Eddy, he’s a grump. Just stay out of his way and you’ll be fine.” However, this didn’t reassure Anna but instead made her feel a little uneasy.

Kristoff showed Anna a well, which was a deep hole in the ground with water in it. Anna asked how you got the water out of the well, and Kristoff explained that a bucket was lowered down into the well, filled with water, and pulled back out again. Anna didn’t much see the point in that, when streams were so much more convenient, but Kristoff insisted the well was better.

Kristoff liked to talk, and the time passed quickly in his company. Anna was delighted by the town and its strange people and smells. She thought she liked it a lot compared to the forest, where, although you could talk to the animals and the trees, they never talked back.

The two of them had been walking around the town for a few hours when they passed between two cabins and emerged into a wide stretch of green field. Part of the field was cordoned off by a flimsy wooden fence, where sheep were grazing peacefully. Near the fence, a group of young boys that looked about Kristoff’s age were standing in a crowd. They were all fixated on something that Anna couldn’t see, and Kristoff snorted.

“Oh, they’re here,” he said in an angry tone. Sven snorted as well.

“Who’s ‘they?’” asked Anna, looking at Kristoff.

Kristoff folded his arms. “Just a couple of bullies.”

“What’s a bully?”

Kristoff sighed in exasperation, and did not answer. Anna looked back at the boys, and noticed that they were laughing at something. “What are they looking at?” she asked.

Kristoff just shrugged this time, and after a moment, said, “Let’s just go.”

Anna was unsatisfied by this answer. “I’m going to go see for myself then,” she declared, and started marching toward the boys, barefoot and leafy-garbed as she was.

“Wait, Anna–” Kristoff started, but by that time one of the boys had already noticed them. Soon after, half the group was staring at the obscured thing, and half the group was staring wide-eyed at Anna.

Anna reached the group and craned her head to see what the object of their attention was. She noticed most of the boys were a little taller than she was, and unlike the adults of the village, who had regarded her with kindness, they were looking at her with cold suspicion. Two of the boys had parted so that Anna could see what they had been surrounding. What she saw made her feel as though someone had plunged her heart into icy water.

In the center of the group, a tall, lanky youth with jet hair and a furrowed brow was standing over a pitiful little mousy-haired boy who looked much younger than any of them. His body was covered in bruises and scratches, and he was crying. By now, the jeering had stopped. Kristoff caught up to Anna and grabbed her elbow. He tried to pull her away, but she was stock still.

She had seen this sort of thing before, of course. She thought of the bear and that little fawn. She knew it was nature’s way, that she should leave well enough alone. But something about this felt wrong. This was a town of humans, it wasn’t supposed to be like the forest. It was supposed to have neat lines and nice people, not bears and fawns.

One of the boys in the circle spoke up. “Brendan-” he began, but he didn’t need to finish. No doubt the dark-haired boy had noticed that the laughter had died away, and he looked around, trying to find the reason why.

His eyes found Anna’s, and he fixed her with a cold gaze. He stepped away from the mewling, beaten child, and walked up to Anna. His eyes snapped to her left, and he scoffed.

“Kristoff,” he growled. “This must be your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend!” said Kristoff too loudly, his cheeks reddening.

“No?” The dark-haired boy’s lips twisted into a thin smile. He looked her up and down. “That’s too bad. She suits you.”

Anna had picked up that he was talking about her, though she didn’t know what “girlfriend” was supposed to mean. “What are you doing to that boy?” she asked as she tried to keep her voice steady.

The boy glared at Anna. He was still smiling that thin little smile, though his eyes smoldered with barely concealed rage. “This kid needs to learn to respect his elders,” he sneered. “Just this morning he tripped over my foot and he wouldn’t even apologize.” He shook his head, as if disappointed, and a nervous chuckle wafted through the group.

“I said ‘I’m sorry,’” croaked the mousy-haired boy, and the youth scowled and spun around, kicking the boy in the side.

“Don’t speak unless spoken to,” he shouted down at the boy, who yelped in pain again.

“Don’t hurt him!” Anna yelled. The youth turned to look at Anna again, all trace that cold smile gone from his face.

“Who do you think you are?” he said, his voice trembling with anger.

“I’m Anna, and I’m telling you to leave that boy alone!” she yelled, even louder this time.

The youth walked over to Anna and was right in front of her in just a few short strides. He towered above her. “What,” he breathed, “will you do if I don’t?”

“Scare you,” Anna retorted, her blue eyes matching his dark gaze.

He smirked, and raised his fist.

The blow was ill-aimed, and connected with her shoulder, but it was still quick enough and strong enough to take her by surprise. She stumbled backwards but kept her footing. Scare the bear, the thought came to her mind. She screamed at the top of her lungs and charged into the youth, leaping at him. His eyes widened in anger or surprise – she couldn’t tell which – and she bowled into him, knocking him down. She bit his shoulder and he yelped with pain, and she started battering him with her fists. He threw her off and she rolled across the grass. The youth jumped to his feet and walked up to her, a furious look in his eyes. He kicked her in the stomach, hard, and knocked the wind out of her. There was a commotion now. She looked up and saw Kristoff struggling to restrain the dark-haired boy. Suddenly, above the din of shouting children, a clear voice cracked across the field like a peal of thunder.

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?”

All motion seemed to stop. Kristoff unhanded the boy, whose face was fixed with a look of seething resignation. Anna sat up, a sharp pain shooting through her belly. She saw a tall woman with long, golden hair tied into two braids striding towards them. She looked livid.

“Brendan?” said the woman as she stared at the youth. “Would you care to explain to me what you think you’re doing?”

Brendan’s lip curled. “Just having fun, ma’am.”

She slapped him. He looked at her, awestruck, his cheek turning red where she touched him. “Don’t lie to me, you little brat,” she said evenly. “I will tell your father what I’ve seen today. I doubt Edward will approve.”

A flicker of what looked like relief crossed Brendan’s face, for a brief moment, but he kept his cool. He fixed her with a neutral look. “Yes, ma’am.”

The woman extended a hand to Anna to help her up. She looked at the rest of the boys, and noticed the mousy-haired child, now curled up in a ball. “I suggest you all leave,” she said to the group of boys. “Or I will tell all of your parents.”

The boys took notice at that, and left the field on fast-moving legs. At least one of them broke into a dead run, sprinting back to the houses. When they had all dispersed, the woman surveyed the three of them who remained, plus one reindeer.

Anna was breathing shaky breaths, half out of fear and half out of anger. She wanted to cry, but more than that, she wanted revenge on Brendan. She wanted to beat and humiliate him and make him apologize to the poor boy he was attacking.

The boy. Anna remembered him with a start. She spun around to look at the mousy-haired boy she had intervened to protect. The woman was now tending to him, who looked no better off even now that the gang had gone.

“Are you okay, Martin?” she asked, helping him to his feet. He managed to nod a tiny bit.

The woman turned to Kristoff. “Kristoff, please be a dear and escort Martin back to his home.” Kristoff acquiesced, and moved to support Martin with his shoulder, one arm slung around his back. Sven moved up on Martin’s other side, offering moral support if nothing else.

When they were on their way, the woman looked at Anna. Anna looked back at her. Hero, Anna thought. She didn’t even know where the word had come from.

A long moment passed. Before Anna could say something, the woman grabbed her, hard, by the wrist, and started pulling her towards the village.

“H-hey, lemme go!” said Anna, struggling against the woman’s firm grip.

The woman ignored her. “You are reckless,” said the woman. “Attacking a gang like that. They outnumbered you, and it’s a sure bet they were stronger than you as well. That was very foolish.”

Anna’s face was red-hot now. “They were being mean.”

“That’s no excuse for a stupid decision,” said the woman. “If I hadn’t shown up, who knows how much more they'd have hurt you?”

The woman dragged Anna behind a log cabin, one that was surrounded by fat trees. Behind the house was a clearing where the grass had been cut short. Against the back wall of the house leaned many different-looking tools. Anna recognized one – a stick with a curved metal end for cutting wood – but the rest she didn’t know. She saw some pegs nailed into the wall, and hanging from those pegs were some long, smooth, wooden sticks.

“I couldn’t just do nothing,” said Anna with as much resolve as she could muster, but she felt feebler than she sounded.

The woman let go of Anna’s wrist, but Anna didn’t run away. She looked up at the woman, who was staring at the clearing with a misty look in her bright blue eyes. Anna noticed that she was wearing brown breeches and a red tunic, both stained with mud. On her feet she wore two enormous boots. She looked strong, stronger than anyone else Anna had seen in the village, and stood with her back straight and her chin held high. She exuded confidence.

“I know,” said the woman. “The smart thing is hard to do, sometimes. Trust me, I know.” She looked at Anna with a wan smile. “I should not have hit that boy.”

“But he deserved it!” said Anna, her jaw slack.

“Yeah, he did,” admitted the woman with a shrug. “But I still shouldn’t have hit him.”

The woman walked up to the wall of the cabin and plucked off two of the smooth wooden sticks. She threw one to Anna, and she caught it with both hands after a short fumble. She noticed the stick was long and thin at one end, and at the other it was shorter and thicker and easy to grip.

“My name is Astrid, but from now on, you will call me Teacher,” intoned the woman. She placed her left foot behind her body, and straightened out her right foot, pointing at Anna with the long, thin part of the stick. “Do you understand me, ‘wild girl?’” she taunted, the corner of her mouth flickering upwards.

Anna eyed Astrid. “What are you doing?” she asked, still clutching her own stick with both hands.

Astrid smirked. “As long as you’re going to be making stupid decisions, you might as well learn how to make them and get away with it. Now, en garde!”

 


	3. The Legendary Hero

 

Anna’s first lesson in sword fighting was a pitiful affair. Astrid challenged Anna to hit her, and at first she was reluctant. But she relented and gave her stick a half-hearted swing, missing badly. Astrid repaid the clumsy maneuver by knocking Anna over. Anna stood up with a grimace, and tried again. And again. She never touched Astrid, and all she got were bruises for her trouble, but still, she kept at it. It felt good to just try and hit something, or anything, after her encounter with Brendan.

After about an hour, Anna had calmed down. She was sore, but she wasn’t mad anymore. Astrid clapped a hand on her shoulder and guided her gently to the well. She drew up a bucket of cold water and poured some into a clay cup that was sitting nearby. She thrust the filled cup into Anna’s face.

“Here. Drink.”

Anna drank. The water was cool and refreshing. Maybe Kristoff was on to something here, she thought.

“Do you feel better now?” Astrid asked.

Anna bit her lower lip. She did feel better, but she also felt a little ashamed of what she had done. She looked down and nodded.

“Good,” said Astrid. “I guess we’d better go apologize, then.”

Astrid marched Anna up to a house that was wider than the rest, and sat on a slight rise. From the hilltop, Anna could see the entire rest of the town, and estimated there must be at least forty cabins spaced irregularly throughout the small valley it occupied. She saw the field with the sheep, and beyond that a fjord that glittered in the noon sun. Beyond that, she saw the North Mountain, white and beautiful, but she heard no whispers.

The house was made of black timber and the wood paneling was decorated with carved wolf heads. The entryway was two doors with dull metal pulls, and on the doors a fashion of a wolf hunting an elk was carved. Anna and Astrid stood before the doors. For a second, Anna thought Astrid was about to kick in the doors.

Astrid addressed Anna sharply before knocking on the doors. “You are going to apologize to that boy’s father for attacking his son,” she said, in a tone that brooked no argument. “No matter what he says in response, you look sorry, or I’ll make you sorry.”

Anna nodded. Astrid knocked briskly on the doors. After a short wait, the door opened inward, and a man stepped into the threshold. He was tall, with a narrow face, and had short black hair, dark eyes, with a faint trace of hair on his upper lip and chin. Anna recognized him for the man who demanded to know where she was “really from,” the one Kristoff called “Eddy.” She hid her recognition, though, and adopted as best she could a look of contrition.

“Yes?” said the dark-eyed man, glaring between the two of them.

“Anna here has something to say to you, Edward,” said Astrid in a level tone. She pushed Anna hard in the back, so Anna stumbled forward to stand before the man. Anna hesitated for a moment, unsure of what she should say.

“I’m sorry for attacking your son,” she muttered, looking at her shoes.

“What?” barked Edward. “I can’t hear you when you mumble like that, girl. And look at me.”

Anna turned her head up to look at him. His gaze was cold. “I’m sorry for attacking your son,” she said again, more loudly this time.

Edward merely grunted, and looked up at Astrid, his narrow face lined with contempt. “My son tells me that the girl didn’t act alone.”

“Your son was kicking Armin’s boy. Repeatedly. Without mercy. While he lay on the ground,” explained Astrid. “Since you weren’t there, I thought I’d do you the courtesy of doling out some discipline in your stead. I’m sure you must agree that it’s a foul thing for a boy his age to do, to treat his peers like that.” Astrid smiled and her voice sounded like honey.

Edward’s lip curled in a faint sneer. “Indeed,” he snarled, “but next time, let me handle disciplining my son. I’ve already had a talk with him about what’s happened today. I assure you that he won’t forget it for a long time. You touch him again, and I will make you regret it.” Astrid’s expression did not falter.

He swiveled his head to glare at Anna. “And you, wild girl, you stay away from my son. I don’t want him to start eating mud and wearing grass because of whatever diseases you might give him with your animal bites.”

Anna’s temper flared, and she opened her mouth to retort, but out of the corner of her eye she noticed Astrid give a quick but subtle shake of her head. Anna dropped her gaze. “Yes, sir,” she muttered, her hands balled into fists. As an afterthought, she bowed stiffly.

The man snorted and retreated into his house, slamming the wolf door in their faces. They stood in quiet, and then Astrid turned around and walked down the hill, beckoning Anna to follow her.

Anna was still seething when Astrid spoke up again. She was leading Anna to Oaken’s place. “Edward’s a sour buffoon, but he’s the trueborn mayor of this little burg, and that means that he rules.”

This did not improve Anna’s mood in the slightest. “He’s from the Royal Family?” she asked, shocked.

Astrid laughed. It was the first time Anna had seen real warmth or amusement cross her face. “No,” said Astrid, a grin broken out on her face, “no, gods, no. He’s just the mayor of this town. The Royal Family is a long way away.”

“Kristoff said that the Royal Family ruled the Kingdom, and that they were kind and just,” said Anna.

“The Royal Family can’t be everywhere at once,” said Astrid, still smiling. “There are parts of the Kingdom where others rule for them.”

Anna still didn’t like the sound of that. “Well, I don’t think someone so mean should be ‘ruling’ anyone,” she declared.

“That’s life,” Astrid said with a shrug.

Upon their return to Oaken’s cabin, they found the big man with worry written all over his face. Kristoff and Sven were there, too, although Kristoff’s attitude was more like annoyance than concern. At Oaken’s side, a tall, beautiful man with long, free-flowing blond hair stood wringing his immaculate hands. He wore a clean white tunic and gray breeches, and looked relieved when Anna and Astrid passed into view.

“Anders, brother,” said Astrid.

“Astrid, my sister, I was so worried about you,” the man replied, his voice as gentle as a breeze. “The whole town has been talking.”

“It’s been handled,” Astrid reassured him with a pat on the shoulder. He was taller than her by about six inches, and his shoulders were broad, but he still looked smaller than Astrid to Anna’s eye. “I just had to take care of the little wild girl here,” Astrid said, gesturing to Anna.

Anna could feel her face burning again, but Anders favored her with a fond look. “Kristoff told me what happened,” he said. “It was good of you to stand up for Martin.”

Anna said nothing but looked at her feet. It was stupid, she thought. Astrid was right. A silence fell over them, broken when Oaken clapped his hands together and said brightly, “Heck of a first day in town, _ja_?”

In spite of herself, Anna had to smile at that. She looked up and saw they were all smiling, too. Even Astrid. “The first kid with any balls in this town,” Astrid mused dryly, “and she’s a forest child.”

The ride back to the stream with Kristoff consisted of little conversation, as the boy fumed about Brendan and his gang. “They don’t even like him,” he complained. “His ‘gang,’ I mean. They only follow him because he’s a lordling. It’s people like him why I don’t hang around with other kids.” Anna was surprised to hear that, and almost said something, but a feeling in her gut instructed her to hold her tongue.

Upon her return to the cairn, Anna didn’t tell the trolls everything that had happened in town, for fear she would not be allowed to return, so over the next several months she went back every week. She might not have wanted to return to the human village after the ordeal, but she did want to see Astrid again. She had the good sense to stay away from Brendan and his boys, and though she occasionally saw them up to some mischief or another, chasing chickens or throwing rocks at houses, there were no more beatings. All the same, she was diligent about avoiding his dark gaze.

Every now and again, Oaken had some small task for Anna that she did without protest. Kristoff worked for Oaken by delivering goods to cottages around the town, and bringing in ice from the mountains in the north. Anna, meanwhile, helped by pulling water from the well, or bringing in firewood. Oaken said that she was never obliged to do anything, but she was always more than happy to help out.

Under Astrid’s tutelage, Anna continued to learn the art of sword fighting, and found that she liked it a lot. It felt good, and it gave her something to do when she had time to herself. She practiced at Astrid’s drills every day, swinging her arms up and down, side to side, jumping back and forth all the while.

Her enthusiasm grew when Oaken told her stories about great warriors and heroes, which were the kinds of stories Anna had never heard before, but found she enjoyed quite a lot. And Oaken knew a lot of these stories. Oftentimes, Anna and Kristoff sat on the grass outside of Oaken’s house, while Oaken told them about heroes and beasts.

“And then,” Oaken said, as he raised his hands over his head and clenched them together, “Hercules bashed the mountainside with his giant’s strength,” he brought his hands down suddenly, “and the mountain cracked apart, and a rock slide spilled out and crushed them both!”

Anna gasped. “Was Hercules okay?”

Oaken touched the side of his nose and gave her a knowing wink. “It takes more than rocks to kill Hercules, _ja_! But the hydra was not so fortunate.”

Kristoff yawned. “Rocks are just rocks. You know what’s really dangerous? Ice.”

Anna punched him in the shoulder. “I bet you wouldn’t like it if an avalanche fell on you.”

“Avalanches are mostly snow, y’know,” snapped Kristoff, rubbing his shoulder. “And they can happen anytime, anywhere. Not just when a super-demigod punches a mountain.”

“Snow is soft, rocks are hard,” Anna shot back. “I’d rather get hit by some snow than a rock.”

“A tightly-packed snowball can hurt just as badly as a rock,” retorted Kristoff.

They were still bickering when Anders appeared in the entryway of the house and announced dinner. Anders spent a lot of time at Oaken’s cabin, Anna had realized; in fact, he never seemed to be far from the place.

“They live together,” Kristoff had told her, when Anna had asked him about it.

“I thought people all lived in their own houses,” said Anna.

“No, usually families live together,” said Kristoff.

“But… aren’t Anders and Astrid a family?”

“Yeah, but, I mean,” Kristoff looked flustered, “They’re brother and sister, and they used to live together, but then Anders and Oaken got married.”

“Married,” repeated Anna without a hint of understanding. She shook her head. “Human life is so complicated,” she sighed.

So Kristoff proceeded to instruct her on the basics of human families and how marriage tied into the whole thing. At last he used a twig to draw diagrams in the dirt road as Anna looked on. The more Kristoff explained about parents, though he spoke in such a level tone, the more Anna began to feel sharp pangs about her own parents, whom she never met, nor much thought about. Seeing it drawn in front of her, however, it dawned on her that they were real people, as real as Oaken or Astrid or Anders; and, moreover, that she would never get the chance to meet them. The thought made her sad.

“…and when your parents have more than one kid, that’s how you get siblings,” explained Kristoff. Anna scratched her head, and nodded for Kristoff’s benefit, but she was not impressed.

“It’s simpler with trolls,” she said. “Everyone is part of your family when you’re a troll.”

Kristoff shrugged. “You’re supposed to love your family. How can you love someone you’ve never met?”

“Everyone in the troll village knows each other,” replied Anna.

“Maybe that’s it. Most people in the kingdom are strangers,” said Kristoff. “Anyway,” he said, stretching his legs out, “that’s why Anders and Oaken live together.”

Anna nodded again. Then she asked, “Where do you live, Kristoff?”

Kristoff stopped mid-stretch and looked at her, a blank look on his face. “I sleep in the stables. With Sven.”

“So maybe Sven’s like your brother?” she teased.

Kristoff tried to frown, but when Sven whinnied in appreciation, he couldn’t help smiling. “He’s like a brother, for sure,” he murmured as he patted Sven’s woolly mane. “He’s always got my back.” Sven nuzzled Kristoff with what looked like a dopey smile on his reindeer face.

Anna had found herself wishing she had a brother, or maybe a sister, as she watched Kristoff and Sven. The thought resonated with her until she went to sleep that evening, and that night she dreamt of a wide, snowy field. She was running through it, laughing, kicking up waves of snow behind her, and she reached a wide frozen lake. She jumped on the lake and began sliding, wind whipping through her hair. She was sliding fast, faster than she had ever moved before, faster than Sven and his sled, faster than hawks or eagles, faster than an avalanche. The wind chilled her to the bone, and she couldn’t move or feel her fingers or face, and she awoke with a start, shivering violently despite the muggy summer night.

Oaken got up when Anders announced dinner, and Anna was reminded of the story. “Wait! So, what happened next?”

The big man wrinkled his mustache. “Well,” he said, “the hydra was slain, and the city rejoiced. They called him a hero, but the gods did not.”

Anna frowned. “Why didn’t the gods call him a hero?”

Oaken tittered. “Hoo-hoo, that’s a good question, _ja_.” And he walked into his cabin. Kristoff and Anna trailed behind.

“Why do you think the gods didn’t call him a hero?” Anna asked Kristoff.

Kristoff hummed. “Maybe because… Hercules didn’t kill the hydra with his own two hands, he had to use a cheap trick? Or maybe because hydras were really common in those days, and any old fool could kill one.”

“No, I don’t think that’s right,” said Anna, a little peeved at Kristoff’s cavalier attitude. Kristoff just shrugged. They followed Oaken into the cabin.

The inside of Oaken’s cabin consisted of three small rooms: a front room, a kitchen, and his bedroom. The front room was the most spacious of the three, a thick bearskin rug covering a large portion of the floor. A fat stone fireplace sat in one corner, though now it sat disused while the windows were all open, a pleasant breeze blowing through the room. This was the room where Oaken entertained guests, as well as ate meals, and a low round table sat in front of the hearth, surrounded by stools and chairs. In another corner, a tall cherrywood set of shelves sat laden with dusty old books, large and small. Anna wondered why there were so many of them, and just what they were for, but had never gotten around to asking the question. She still didn’t understand how they could tell a story.

The kitchen Anna and Kristoff were rarely permitted to enter. This was not because of any conceit of Anders’, who ruled the kitchen and always welcomed the two of them with treats (and a carrot for Sven, who wasn’t allowed to enter the cabin period), but rather this was because Oaken said he wouldn’t have the two of them putting their grubby hands all over his food. False anger would fill his eyes every time he caught the two of them sneaking into the kitchen. “Hoo- _hoo_!” he would boom, and stomp after them. “Out of the kitchen!” Anders would just laugh, so Anna and Kristoff did too, and they would race between Oaken’s legs and out the front door, grubby hands filled with one or two goodies from his pantry.

Oaken’s bedroom Anna had seen only once, from the front room, when Oaken had gone in there to fetch a ledger. She saw the biggest, fluffiest bed she’d ever laid eyes on, and was at a loss to explain how anyone could manage sleeping on such a thing. “It’d smother you!” Anna had whispered, aghast, to Kristoff, who agreed. “Softest thing I’ve ever slept on was straw,” he’d crowed, and Anna said: “The softest thing I’ve ever slept on was snow.”

Today, Anders produced some black rye bread and a watery stew of carrots and onions, with a hunk of fish for each of them. Anna generally enjoyed eating at Oaken’s house, because the food was hot and filling, but she suffered from a limitless sweet tooth, and felt the need to chase every meal with something sugary. Among the trolls, this was a trivial matter, berries, apples, and pears being in such abundance. But more often than not, there were no fruits to be had in Oaken’s cabin, and only very rarely sweetened bread. The food was much better than nothing, and she was not ungracious by any means, but nevertheless she always felt a little listless after taking meals in the human town.

Once Anders had finished distributing bowls and bread chunks, they settled down at the round table in front of the still fireplace. The mid-afternoon light was warm and flooded the room with its sleepy beams. Outside the window, Anna could see a big group of clouds gathering in the north. They crawled southwards at a ponderous, leisurely pace.

Over the meal, Oaken talked some about his plans for a trading post outside of town, somewhere that would attract traffic from the ice fields and maybe even the city. “Finding a good spot is hard, _ja_ ,” he said.

“We could set up closer to the North Mountain,” suggested Anders. “There’s a lot of space, and there are hot springs near there. We could build a sauna.”

“A haunted place,” Oaken said with a shiver, and immediately swallowed a huge spoonful of hot soup. He must have burnt his tongue, because he immediately stuck it out and started fanning it with his big hands.

“That’s just a ghost story,” declared Kristoff. Anna snickered into her bowl. Just a few months ago you were shaking in your boots at that ‘ghost story,’ she thought.

“Now, now, Kristoff,” said Anders solemnly. “Oaken has a point. Even if we don’t believe in ghost stories, others still might, and they wouldn’t want to come to a haunted trading post.”

“Unless by living there you could prove them wrong,” Anna pointed out. “I mean… how haunted can it be if you’re doing well?”

“Ah,” said Anders in his gentle voice, “but if the trading post was a failure, because nobody came, because they were scared of ghosts, people would say that it was proof the trading post was haunted the whole time.” A shrewd gleam flashed in his eyes. “The most dangerous prophecies are the self-fulfilling ones.”

I wonder what Astrid would say to that, Anna thought.

Oaken, however, was playing with his mustache and looking pensive. “We could call it the ‘haunted trading post,’” he said to no one in particular. “I bet that would get some attention, _ja_?”

Anders agreed, and for a time they sat arguing about the exact wording of the title. Kristoff suggested “The Ghost Post,” which had Anna crying in laughter, especially when Kristoff looked so scandalized that she didn’t think he was serious. Anders proposed “The Whispering Trader,” but Oaken thought that was just a little bit too evocative, and not in a good way. Oaken stubbornly insisted on “The Haunted Trading Post,” but the rest agreed that that name was so boring as to not be worth considering.

Hours passed and it had become overcast outside, the northern clouds having overtaken the setting sun. They had moved on to the subject of ghost stories in general and, Oaken being a learned expert on the matter, was treating them to some short accounts of unexplained happenings and restless spirits. Kristoff scoffed at some of the more outlandish stories, but was less dismissive of tamer stories about things that went bump in the night. Anders good-naturedly pointed out the discrepancy.

“Some things actually do go bump in the night,” Kristoff elaborated. “Like, not ghosts, but wolves. Things that really can hurt you. The rest of those stories just sound like myths people tell little kids.”

“Oh, Kristoff,” said Oaken. “Surely, you don’t think all myths are false, _ja_?”

“Some are,” said Kristoff, resolute.

“Which myths are true?” asked Anna, wondering what Oaken would say.

Oaken tapped his chin. “I think they’re all true, in their own ways,” he said, and Kristoff rolled his eyes. Oaken ignored him and stood up, crossing the room to the bookshelf that sat in the corner. His thick forefinger ran quickly up and down the spines of the books until he said “Ah-ah!” and picked up the book his finger ended up resting on. “This is the truest of them all, if such a thing was possible, _ja_.”

It was a slender book with a teal blue binding, and he carried it over to the table the way a mother might carry a swaddled child. He set the book down on the table with the grace of a tea-setter. Kristoff stared at it, expression puzzled, while Anna squinted her eyes and looked at the letters on the cover.

“The Endless Winter,” she sounded out.

Everyone stared at her.

“W-what?” she stuttered, leaning back and low in her seat.

“You can read,” Anders observed.

Oaken’s mouth was agape. “How is this possible? You lived in the forest your whole life, _ja_?”

Anna felt confused. “What do you mean, I can ‘read?’ What is that?”

Kristoff snatched the book and held it up to her face. “This book has letters drawn all over it. Trained people can ‘read’ letters and turn them into words.” He looked almost jealous as the words tumbled out of his mouth.

Anna attempted to stammer a response, but Anders waved her quiet. “It’s a learned skill,” said Anders patiently. “You have to have picked it up somewhere.”

Anna’s shoulders scrunched up and she held out her hands in a helpless gesture. “I’ve never even heard of reading before!”

After a tense moment, their faces softened. “Just another mystery about the forest girl,” said Oaken with the faintest hint of a chuckle. “Maybe someday there’ll be legends told about you, _ja_?”

Legends told about me? Anna thought for a moment, panic temporarily driving all other thoughts from her mind.

“Never mind that,” said Oaken, gesturing for Kristoff to hand him the book. The boy turned it over, and Oaken put it back on the table. His normal airy tone deepened, and his voice seemed to rattle the ceiling shafters. “This is no ordinary myth. This is a history. A legend. This is the story of the Royal Family of Arendelle.

“A long time ago, when the Kingdom of Arendelle was first founded, there was a beautiful queen who ruled all the land. Once, she was beloved by her people, but she became cursed with a terrible ice magic and became wicked, and ravaged the land with an endless winter blizzard.

“She stole an artifact from the gods, and with that artifact, constructed an invincible palace of pure ice. From that palace, she ruled. Life under the Ice Queen was harsh and short, and her minions terrorized the kingdom. Crops withered on the vines, livestock perished in the relentless cold, and the sun never rose.

“It was when things seemed darkest that a legendary hero came forth, and pledged to end the endless winter. He pleaded to the gods, and they sent him on a grand quest to prove his valor. He defeated the Ice Queen’s minions all across Arendelle.” Oaken lifted a huge fist, and one finger for each minion:

One. “A wolf with fur as white as snow, and eyes as blue as ice.”

Two. “A dragon with the antlers of a moose, claws as long as men and teeth as sharp as obsidian, and breath as hot as frostbite.”

Three. “A kraken with as many arms as there are fish in the sea.”

Four. “A ghast with a touch as cold as the void.”

Five. “A spirit as old as the wind and sky.”

Oaken held up his other hand now. Six. “His own shadow.”

Oaken put his hands down and leaned forward. “One by one, the legendary hero faced down the minions, and defeated them all in combat, and when his work was done, he prayed to the gods again. They heard his prayers and granted him a magic sword that would bring balance to the seasons. He named the sword ‘Wintersbane,’ and then he went to the queen’s ice palace.

“Wielding the magic sword, he confronted the Ice Queen and shattered the stolen artifact into six pieces. Her power was broken against the sword, and he struck her down. After that day, the sun rose again, and summer returned to the land. The endless winter was ended.

“And the legendary hero hid his magic blade away and left as mysteriously as he came. Ever since then, we celebrate that day, when the sun is up the longest, as the day of the year to remember the gift given to us by the legendary hero, and the balance of the seasons.”

Oaken finished the story and leaned back in his chair. The atmosphere of the room seemed very close now, and Anna had been listening with intense fascination.

“A palace of ice,” whispered Kristoff.

“A magic sword,” whispered Anna. Her thoughts were racing as visions of a valiant hero filled her head, sword held aloft. She imagined herself, wielding the sword of Winter’s Bane, striking down evil monsters left and right, battling dragons and krakens and ghasts.

Anders smiled. “Of course, some people still call that a myth,” he teased Oaken.

“Many legends are called myths, and many myths are false, but that legend is no myth,” proclaimed Oaken with a firm nod of the head.

Kristoff scratched his head. “So how come this guy’s a hero, but Hercules wasn’t? They both slayed monsters and saved people, didn’t they?”

Oaken simply laughed. “What do you think, Kristoff?”

“I dunno,” said Kristoff. All interest had flitted out of his eyes once he seemed to realize this had become a mental exercise. He turned to look at Anna. “Any ideas?”

Anna honestly had no clue, so she just shrugged noncommittally. “So what does this story have to do with the Royal Family?” she asked, changing the subject.

“ _Ja_ , that’s right,” said Oaken, looking like he had just remembered something important. “Well, it’s said that the Royal Family is descended from the Ice Queen-”

Kristoff interrupted. “There’s no way the Ice Queen had kids.”

Oaken waved a hand to settle him down. “It’s unsure, _ja_. Some say she had a brother who took the throne after she died; others say an estranged son, or a long-lost cousin. What is certain is that the first king after her was King Andrew the Cold, who had hair and skin as white as snow, but he was no sorcerer. There has never been a sorceress like the Ice Queen since, though it is said her ice magic still runs in the veins of the Royal Family.”

Kristoff looked skeptical. “No sorceresses ever since, huh?” He almost looked downcast. “No more ice palaces.”

Anders chuckled as his face brightened up in a flash. “All this talk of the Royal Family has reminded me. They’re passing through this village just next week on a pilgrimage.”

“What?” shouted Kristoff and Anna in unison. Even Oaken looked surprised. Anders nodded.

“It’s true,” he said. “They’ll meet with the Lord Mayor Burrows on their way to the North Mountain. They’ll probably pass by this very street.”

“More proof of their icy heritage,” said Oaken triumphantly. “Who, but those with ice magic in their blood, scales the North Mountain on a pilgrimage, _ja_?”

“To be fair, they only go halfway up,” said Anders. “And it’s a tradition. The princess is turning thirteen years old, and all members of the Royal Family climb the mountain at thirteen.” Anna noticed Kristoff and Oaken both give a troubled frown at this.

Anna herself was only turning ten, but she thought it sounded like a fun tradition. “I’d like to climb the North Mountain,” said Anna. “It can’t be that dangerous, right?”

“No one climbs the North Mountain,” said Kristoff, as though he was reminding Anna which way gravity went.

“Except the Royal Family,” put in Anders.

Kristoff scowled and Anna laughed. “So we’ll really get to see the Royal Family?” she asked hopefully.

Anders nodded. “The royal procession passes through the town next Wednesday. No doubt we’ll all get the chance to see the Royal Family.”

“Hoo-hoo, and their retainers!” said Oaken suddenly, jumping out of his chair. “Knights and courtiers will be attending them, and that means business, _ja_! I’ll need to set up my stall!”

As Kristoff drove Anna back to the forest that evening, they talked about what it would be like when the Royal Family came into town.

“I heard they dress in all kinds of fancy clothes,” said Kristoff. “I bet even you would be impressed.” He grinned at her.

She kicked him, but she was grinning too. “What’s a knight?” she asked.

“What?”

“A knight, you know, like Oaken mentioned,” said Anna, trying to remember the big man’s exact wording. “He said there’d be knights and cour- courtiers.”

“Oh, right,” said Kristoff. “Knights are like heroes who fight for someone. They pledge themselves to a lord and fight for them. I bet the Royal Family has a lot of knights.”

“Wow, cool,” said Anna, and she imagined a whole legion of heroes, all fighting evil in the name of the Royal Family. She thought of something, and her face tightened into a frown. “Wait a minute. Does Eddy- erm, does the Lord Mayor have any knights?”

“Nah, I don’t think so,” said Kristoff. “I think he has a few sworn warriors though – y’know, warriors that swore an oath to serve him. I know Astrid is one.”

“Huh?” Anna was shocked to hear that. But the Lord Mayor is… he’s a jerk!

“You didn’t know that?” asked Kristoff. “She’s probably the best warrior in town.”

Anna didn’t doubt that much for a second, but she was still stuck wondering why on Earth Astrid would swear herself to the service of the Lord Mayor. She even called him a sour buffoon. Anna had more than half a mind to ask Astrid what she could have been thinking.

“Can you unswear an oath?” asked Anna.

“No,” said Kristoff simply. “I mean, I guess technically you can, but then people call you oathbreaker. Oathbreakers have no honor.”

Anna was still puzzling this out when he dropped her off at the stream. Honor, oaths… she shook her head. What good was all that when you had to serve someone like Edward?

She got to sleep early that evening and when she awoke, it was around midnight. The troll village was alive at this time of night, so it didn’t take her a lot of effort to find the Wise Troll. The Wise Troll was hard at work trying to make a watchman of poor Braffly, who looked floored by the complexity of the task.

“I don’t understand your confusion, my dear Braffly,” said the Wise Troll wearily.

“Uhm, uh,” said Braffly, trying to gather his thoughts like they were a lot of petals scattered by the wind. “It’s just the bears, Wise Troll. What do I do if I see one?”

“You remember where you saw it, and you come back and tell us,” explained the Wise Troll. “Never engage a bear with less than seven trolls. You know this, Braffly.”

“Right,” said Braffly slowly. “But what about a fox? Or a wolf?”

“If it’s neither a bear nor a monster, you have no reason to be afraid of it. Wolves won’t attack you if they’re alone, and packs of wolves don’t come near the village. If you see a pack of wolves, come back here and let someone know at once.” The Wise Troll finished in a tone that expressed he felt the conversation was over. Braffly collected his wits and waddled off, muttering to himself: “Bears, monsters, packs of wolves; bears, monsters, packs of wolves…”

The Wise Troll turned around and noticed Anna. He looked worn out. “Ah, Anna,” he said. “How was your day in town?”

“It was a lot of fun,” said Anna excitedly. “Say, have you ever heard the story of the Endless Winter?”

The Wise Troll narrowed his eyes for a moment, but said “Can’t say as I have. Why do you ask?”

“Well,” began Anna, taking in a deep breath, “Oaken told a story about the origins of the Royal Family and then Anders said that the Royal Family was going to pass through the town next week on their way to climb the North Mountain which everyone says is dangerous but I don’t think it looks that dangerous and anyway I was wondering since I thought I should probably ask you if it’d be okay if I went and saw the Royal Family when they pass through town next Wednesday?” She was out of breath, but at least she had said all she needed to say. She put on her most winsome smile. She didn’t know why she was nervous, the Wise Troll was so understanding and accommodating, of course he would say-

“No.”

“What?” Anna wasn’t sure if she was hearing him correctly.

“I said no,” he said. His eyes had grown wide during her speech, but now they were narrowed into slits, his brow furrowed. “I knew this business gallivanting around the human town was going to turn up trouble. I absolutely forbid you to go into town when the Royal Family passes through.”

Anna felt heartbroken. “But… but why?” she croaked.

“Because I said so,” and he turned away. “And don’t think you can just sneak out, either. I will post guards next Wednesday and make sure they know not to let you out.” And he stomped off.

Anna felt low, lower than she had ever felt before. What was the problem? Was it something she said? Why didn’t the Wise Troll want her to go see the Royal Family? The more she thought about it, the sadder she got. She didn’t even go to see Kristoff that next morning at the crossing.

She did her chores sullenly that whole week, and spoke little with the other trolls. Some of them asked her what was wrong, but she didn’t really want to talk about it with them. She wanted to talk to the Wise Troll, but it seemed like he was avoiding her. In fact, half the time it was like he wasn’t even in the village.

A few days later, she was picking berries by the brook with much less than her usual gusto. The sun was peeking shyly over the horizon when the impulse to go see Kristoff took her. She wouldn’t talk to the other trolls, but somehow she thought talking to Kristoff might help. She made her way up the brook, glancing over her shoulder to make certain she wasn’t being followed, her copper hair whipping around her as she swiveled her head forward and back.

She got to the crossing and waited until Kristoff showed up. He looked a little apprehensive. “Hey there,” he said. “I was worried about you. You weren’t here the past few days.”

“I know,” said Anna, looking at her feet. “The Wise Troll says I’m not allowed to go see the Royal Family.”

“What?” Kristoff’s jaw dropped. “Why not?”

“He didn’t give a reason,” Anna mumbled. She folded her arms. “He won’t even talk to me.” She didn’t feel like crying – she never cried – but she certainly felt hurt.

Kristoff frowned. He went up to Anna and put an arm around her. “Hey, don’t worry. The Wise Troll is like, king of the trolls, right? I’m sure he has a good reason.”

Anna said nothing. Kristoff removed his arm from her shoulder and said “I’m sure we’ll figure something out. I’m in a hurry today, but come back tomorrow, okay? We’ll think of a way to sneak you out.”

The next morning, Anna was there at the crossing again. Her mood was ever so slightly improved, but she couldn’t tell if it was because she now felt numb to the disappointment, or because she was preoccupied with thinking of ways to trick the guards. I could stay out all the previous day, she thought. But that would be dishonest, and then I’d get tired – and where would I sleep? What would I do? What if the Wise Troll got really mad and banned me from going back to town? Surely not, she thought – but then again, he had tried to keep her from leaving town back when she had scared that bear. At this, Anna felt a little more hopeless.

Kristoff showed up, and today there was a tied-up leather package on the sled, sitting next to the block of ice. Kristoff had a wicked grin on his face.

“So I talked to Astrid,” he began. Astrid, thought Anna. If anyone can help me, it’s her! So Anna allowed herself to grin too.

“She told me to give you this bundle,” Kristoff continued. “She said it’s some nice clothes if you’re going to make yourself presentable for the royal procession.” Kristoff shoved the package at her. It was light and tied with string. Anna’s grin faltered.

“How is this going to help me sneak out or convince the Wise Troll to change his mind?” Anna asked, a little more acidly than she intended.

Now Kristoff’s grin became a smirk. “She said she wasn’t worried about that, since you’re a bona-fide professional at making bad decisions.” He sniggered, and led Sven away with a wave good-bye.

Anna was mad at him, and this bundle. This bundle that had clothes in it. What good were clothes going to be?

She tore open the package, biting at the string to get it to snap. Inside the package was some green cloth. She pulled it out and held it in front of her, and she gaped.

It was a beautiful emerald-green tunic, inlaid with designs in sea-blue thread. The designs were spirals and wound around the fringes of the neck and sleeves, and looked like blooming flowers in a field of grass. The material was soft but strong, and it felt like air in her hands. The tunic was long, and she could see it reached almost to her knees when she held it out.

Also in the package was a pair of off-white leggings, some brown skin shoes, a slim brown belt with an unadorned buckle, and a folded piece of parchment. Anna unfolded it carefully, and read the lettering scrawled within:

_Hey wild girl,_

_I heard you can read. Me too. I thought you could use some clothing better suited for sword-practice, so I put together this little number. Hope it comes in handy._

_Kristoff told me you got into a fight with your folks. Believe me, I know what that’s like. Something tells me you won’t let it stop you from being stupid. Please don’t try proving me wrong._

_Yours,_

_Astrid_

Now Anna’s eyes were wet. She had to get into town now, she knew it. But how?

She spent the next few days skulking about the perimeter of the village in the mornings. There were guards posted every so often at odd distances around the outskirts of the village. Too few to prevent her from actually leaving, if she wanted, but she also knew Wednesday would be different.

Then there was Braffly, who dozed as often as not, and in general seemed to lack cunning. She remembered the conversation that he had with the Wise Troll, and her brain hatched a plan.

Come Wednesday morning, there were, indeed, a greater number of guards posted around the perimeter. Most of the trolls were turning in for the day, and activity was dying down throughout the village just as the sun began to rise.

Anna took Astrid’s rewrapped package up under arm. She clutched the letter from Astrid in one hand. Whenever doubt crept in, she would remember the letter, and clutch it more tightly. She milled around the perimeter for a little while, inspecting the guards as she went. Not one of them took their eyes off her until she passed out of their sight, and into the sight of the next guard.

She attempted to look as nonchalant as possible, but few of the guards seemed convinced by this show. Of course. They all had spoken to the Wise Troll. One even said, in a sing-song voice, “Aaannaaa, you’re not thinking of sneaking out, are you?”

“Nope!” she chirped back, and continued on.

At last, she got to Braffly’s watch. Braffly was scratching his nose and looked bored. Anna glanced around. There was nobody here but her and Braffly. She approached him.

“Hey Anna,” he said, as he kept scratching his nose.

“Hey Braff,” she replied. “So, uh, I’m going out today.”

“Nope, nope,” said Braffly, taking his nose-scratching finger and pointing it right at her. “The Wise Troll said that I’m not supposed to let you out.”

“That’s true,” said Anna, and she tried her best to look thoughtful. “But he also said you’re not supposed to mess with bears.”

“Bears?” repeated Braffly, his face blank. Anna nodded. “You’re not a bear,” he analyzed.

“No, I’m worse,” said Anna, giving him a mischievous smile. “Remember, I scared off a bear?”

“You did, you did,” said Braffly, and now it was his turn to look thoughtful. “The Wise Troll didn’t say what to do if I ran into a bear-scarer.”

“Can you think of anything else that scares bears?” Anna led him on. He shook his head.

“Monsters.”

He gulped visibly. “You’re not a monster, though, you’re just Anna.”

“I’m a lot of things,” she said, and she tried to look impressive, standing up straight with her chin held high. “I am Anna and a bear-scarer at least.”

Braffly was silent for a long moment, and he looked to be weighing his options. “Well, I guess, since you’re a bear-scarer…”

A noise came from behind Anna. Rock footsteps on the soft forest ground. No, thought Anna. “Wait!” came Loot’s familiar swagger. No, no, thought Anna again. She turned around and saw Loot and Rain stagger into view, both out of breath.

“Anna, you can’t go out there,” said Rain, panting.

“What are you guys doing here?” said Braffly, his face screwing up.

“We knew you’d be too dim to stop Anna from leaving,” snapped Rain. “So we came to supplement your poor judgment.”

“Speak for yourself,” edged in Loot. “I came to encourage her.”

Rain scowled. “This is no time for one of your jokes, Loot.”

“It’s no joke,” Loot insisted. He looked grim – uncharacteristic of the boisterous troll. He fixed Anna with a stern gaze. “You should go. I know you want to. You’re a bear-scarer. Whatever the Wise Troll is worried about, it’s utter nonsense.”

Rain was too shocked to say anything, and Braffly just looked confused. Anna eyed Loot suspiciously. “Why are you helping me?”

“Your place is out there,” said Loot. “Not here.”

A lump formed in Anna’s throat. “But you guys are my family,” she said. “This is my home.”

Loot laughed a short laugh, and his expression softened. “Yes, we are; and yes, it is. And we will always love you.” His face turned serious again. “But, well, when I was a young troll, I also liked to wander. I couldn’t stand being cooped up in one place for long. I know what it’s like to want to see the world.” He paused. “And that’s how I know the restrictions we are trying to put on you won't make a bit of difference in the end. You have to follow your heart.”

Anna could feel tears welling up in her eyes, but she forced them back. “Thank you,” she whispered. She looked at Rain, who wore a resigned expression.

“Are you going to tell the Wise Troll I snuck out?” asked Anna.

“Yeah, I am,” said Loot. “More than that, I'm going to tell him I helped you sneak out. He'll make me wash some skirts.”

Anna nodded. She turned to face Braffly again. He still looked bewildered.

“I'm going now,” she told him. “You're not going to stop me?”

“You're a bear-scarer,” he explained.

She ran past him, bundle still under her arm. The sun was rising. She reached the brook and tore off her clothes, setting them down in the shade of a squat birch tree. Out of the package, she drew the garments that Astrid had arranged for her and pulled them on. The leggings and shoes were strange. She felt like her entire lower half was being constricted, and she didn’t like the barrier she now felt between the ground and her toes. She ran as she dressed, and hopped up to the crossing still pulling the shoes on her feet.

She was just in time, the rattling of Kristoff’s sled growing louder as she approached the crossing. She hailed him, and he smiled goofily. “Nice outfit,” he said. She'd just have to take his word for it: she had no idea what she looked like in these new clothes.

At first, her heart was pounding. She disobeyed a direct order from the Wise Troll. She had accomplices, sure; and she wanted to go to town more than she wanted to listen to his rules. But a niggling worry complained at the back of her head. She would have to deal with it eventually.

Later, though. Right now, this was her time. Her day.

 


	4. The Royal Procession

 

When they reached the town, masses of people were crowding the road. Kristoff pulled over to the side of Oaken's cabin, leaning the sled up against one of the walls and untying Sven, before the three of them proceeded into the throng. Anna thought it was too many people for the forty-or-so houses that comprised the town proper, but she guessed that a good many of them were visitors from nearby, like her. Kristoff said that there were plenty of people that lived well outside the town, on farms and in secluded cottages, though they were all beholden to the same Lord Mayor.

Not me, Anna thought. I owe nothing to the Lord Mayor.

In the center of town was a large cleared section that Kristoff called the town center. Here, merchants had set up some stalls, and were shouting over the din of the crowd the prices and varieties of their wares. One merchant with a long mustache was selling smelly oils in glass bottles, and another merchant with a scar on his face was selling sinister-looking weapons with curved blades. There wasn’t much business at the moment, as most of the people in the crowd weren't there to buy things. No, they were there for the same reason Anna was: to see the Royal Family.

Her group passed through the town square, dodging people as they went, and reached the one merchant they were looking for. Behind a too-small stall, perched on a too-small chair, Oaken squatted and hawked his odds and ends.

Odds and ends they were, too: ropes, carrots, boots, fur hats, pickaxes, bags of beans, leather wallets, wool gloves, a wind-up clock, ink bottles, jars of pickled herring, jars of lutefisk, wooden bowls, long balls of yarn, rolls of twine, fishing rods. Anna had never even imagined wanting most of the things Oaken was selling, and yet people seemed interested. A line of people snaked around his stall, inspecting his things – but never touching. Oaken slapped the wrists of anyone who got too handy with his goods.

He was in the middle of a civil negotiation with a customer when Anna and Kristoff approached.

“No, no, that won't do. Supply and demand are a big problem here,” he said to a red-faced customer who was offering a bag of coin.

It didn't work: the would-be customer sulked off, and Oaken's attention was drawn to Anna and Kristoff.

“Hoo-hoo!” he greeted them. “Are you two ready?” His eyes twinkled, and for the moment all thoughts of the Wise Troll's retribution flitted from Anna's mind.

For a time they sat next to Oaken's stall while he continued to bargain and barter with comers and goers. Anna kept standing on her tiptoes, looking around, trying to find the slightest thing that would indicate the arrival of visiting royalty.

When Anders showed up, he announced that the royal procession wouldn't be coming through until about noon, so they had time to kill. Oaken had Kristoff run to his cabin and back to fetch some trinkets for the stand, which Kristoff did, grumbling. Anna, meanwhile, decided she might as well go look around.

The town square was situated at the base of the small hill upon which sat the Lord Mayor's black timber house. Anna shuddered when she saw it, remembering the horrible encounter with Edward and, before that, his wretched son. She walked off in the opposite direction, towards Astrid's house.

She found Astrid's house as it usually was: quiet, and hemmed in by fat evergreens. She went around back and saw that Astrid wasn't in the clearing. Frowning, she went back to the front door and knocked three times.

Half a minute later, Astrid answered the door, yawning. Her hair was unkempt and not yet tied up in its typical two braids, and she wore a long cherry gown that touched her feet. Anna had never seen Astrid wear anything “feminine” before: most of the women in town wore dresses or skirts, but not Astrid, being as she was more partial to trousers. Anna didn't really understand trousers, anyway, because all the trolls wore skirts. She fiddled at the material of the leggings she was wearing.

“What?” mumbled Astrid as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Anna stifled a giggle.

“I just wanted to say hi,” said Anna. “And I wanted to thank you for the outfit.”

Astrid looked at her through squinted eyes. “It looks good on you. Come in, I'll fix you some tea.”

Anna entered Astrid's home. It was smaller than Oaken's by just a little bit. The main room had a fireplace and a few chairs, and a low, flat, untidy bed sat in the corner. A small stack of logs sat next to the hearth, where coals were sparkling faintly, and the room was well-lit by half-a-dozen windows spaced throughout. One door in the back led to a cramped pantry chock-full of jarredfoodstuffs. A table in the corner was stacked with brown wooden plates and cups, and a single, out-of-place, pink porcelain teapot.

Anna’s favorite thing about Astrid’s house was not the furniture, nor the logs nor the cups, nor the way the morning sunlight lit up the front room without glaring. Rather, she found herself drawn to something that hung over the fireplace on two wooden pegs: a short sword, made of folded steel, with a hilt made of polished red wood. The handle was covered with tough, untanned leather, and the pommel was a small wooden sphere inlaid with a glimmering red stone. The crossguard was made of elaborately carved wood with the ends tapered and curved towards the blade; etched in the center was the detail of a single broad leaf. Anna hadn’t asked about the sword, but one time Astrid caught her staring at it and explained, with a faint smile, that it was a gift, and her favorite sword.

Astrid stirred up the coals in the fireplace and added a log. It started to smolder, and Astrid poured half a bucket of tepid water into a reddish-gray tea kettle and set it over the fire to boil. She walked to the other side of the room, where a piece of curved glass hung on the wall. She began brushing down her hair with brusque efficiency. “Have a seat,” she urged Anna, not unpolitely.

Anna sat down in a chair by the quickening blaze, and watched the tea kettle as flames licked up around it. She wondered if she should broach the subject of Astrid’s pledge to the Lord Mayor.

Astrid finished brushing her hair and walked over to the fire, her strong fingers moving nimbly as they tied two braids, one on either side of her face. Under the crook of her arm she carried two wooden cups and the pink porcelain teapot. After she finished her braids, she set the cups and teapot down on the small wooden table gingerly, and then she sat herself down heavily in a chair on the other side of the fire.

She was wearing her typical confident smirk again. “So, wild girl, what’s up?” She still called Anna “wild girl,” even though everyone else – including Kristoff – had long since dropped that moniker for her.

“Today the royal procession is passing through town,” said Anna. “I… disobeyed my family and snuck out of the troll village.”

Astrid waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “They’re always mad at you at first, but they’ll get over it.”

Anna hesitated. “Three trolls helped me sneak out.” Astrid raised an eyebrow. “Loot – that’s the name of one of the trolls who helped me – he said that my place was here. That I should follow my heart.” Anna wondered if she looked as uncertain as she felt.

Astrid sighed and sat back in her seat, her mouth a straight line. “Nobody can tell you if you made the right decision, kiddo. Only you can answer that.” Her eyes glinted. “So, what do you think?”

Anna didn’t know what she felt or thought. So she just said, “I wanted to see the Royal Family.”

Astrid’s smirk returned. “Well, you’ll have that, at least.”

Anna felt a little better now. Talking to Astrid always made her feel better.

The tea kettle started whining, so Astrid picked it up with a cloth mitt and poured the boiling water into the teapot, where the tea began to steep. She set the tea kettle down beside the fire, which was now crackling away merrily.

Astrid had just finished pouring tea into the two wooden cups, when Anna took hers and asked in what she hoped was a casual tone: “So, Kristoff told me you’re a sworn warrior.”

The sworn warrior paused for a beat, her wooden cup of tea halfway to her mouth. “Ah,” she said. “Yes, that is true.”

“Sworn to serve the Lord Mayor Edward Burrows,” Anna continued.

Astrid nodded in confirmation, taking a sip of tea.

Anna fidgeted. “Why?” she managed.

Astrid set her cup down on the table, her face drawn into a tired expression. Suddenly Anna felt a little guilty at bringing it up. There was probably a good reason why Astrid hadn’t told Anna or made mention of it before.

The corner of Astrid’s mouth lifted into a half-hearted smile. “Honor and duty,” she said in a low voice.

This did not satisfy Anna. “You said yourself that Eddy- that Lord Edward is a- I just don’t understand. You called him a sour buffoon!” Anna sputtered.

Astrid laughed lightly. “A woman’s got to make a living somehow, Anna. I’m the equal of any ten fighters that this little town has, and any twenty brigands that might seek to do it harm. Gods forbid, if any trouble came through…” She shook her head. “As long as I’m a sworn warrior, I can help protect the town, and the people I care about.” One hand was now worrying at one of her braids, and for a second her eyes glazed over. “The people I care about… are worth taking orders from a buffoon for.” She smiled, and comprehension dawned over Anna.

“Oh – you’re protecting Anders… and his husband, and Kristoff, and Martin, and the butter-lady, and Jack the woodcutter,” said Anna.

“Yes, that’s it,” said Astrid, though her gaze had grown more distant. She closed her eyes and chuckled. “Plus it means I can get away with a lot of bad decisions.” Astrid paused. She looked at Anna’s hair, then she said “We have really got to do something about your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Anna said testily. Astrid just laughed and stood up, moving first over to the table where she had left her hairbrush, and then back over to Anna, where she began brushing it down.

“Ow – that hurts!” said Anna as Astrid brushed her hair with hard, sure strokes, but she didn’t pull away. A silence settled over them, but it was one without tension. Anna closed her eyes and let Astrid brush. She kind of liked it.

They talked for the rest of the morning about more pleasant subjects, Anna pleased to find Astrid’s dignity intact. Anna was growing more accustomed to her new clothes – they were comfortable. The leggings still felt a bit clingy, but she was determined to just suck it up.

Midday came, and Astrid said “If you want to see that Royal Family of yours, you’d better get going.”

Anna was confused. “Aren’t you coming to see the royal procession, too?”

“Nah,” said Astrid.

“But why not?”

“Not really my thing,” said Astrid.

Anna frowned. “Oh, come on. It’ll be fun!”

Astrid looked at Anna with an expression that Anna couldn’t quite read. It was a fond, almost sad kind of look. It disappeared quickly when Astrid smirked. “All right, fine,” she huffed, her voice overflowing with melodramatic exasperation. “But you owe me one.”

“No, I don’t,” Anna countered. “I’m doing you a favor.”

Astrid chuckled at that, and the two of them left the cabin together.

Anna noticed that whenever Astrid left the house, she didn’t go unarmed. Unarmored, sure: Anna never saw Astrid bedecked in full leather armor, much less metal mail. She apparently had no need. She had her thick leather gloves, her red tunic and furs, and a hand-and-a-half sword slung across her back, and that was that. Anna hadn’t known for certain what kind of trouble Astrid anticipated, but now that she knew Astrid was a sworn warrior, it made sense that she would be ready to keep the peace. Of course, small boys tormenting smaller boys didn’t seem to require the use of much weaponry to stop.

Then again, maybe the threat of such was a weapon in itself.

Anna also noticed that Astrid never used the steel short sword that hung over her fireplace. Maybe it was too special to use for rote work? Or, more likely, maybe it was too short to intimidate people with – the sword Astrid was now carrying was much more menacing. Anna usually practiced with long sticks, and the steel short sword was a hand shorter than those sticks. Astrid always said the most important thing in sword fighting was reach, and that was why the best swordsmen were good archers. Anna had laughed at that, but Astrid looked serious.

“Why not teach me archery, then?” Anna had asked.

“I don’t know archery,” Astrid replied. “Besides, it takes a lot more work to become a middling archer than it takes to become a decent swordsman. Even so, without a shield, an archer will drop you before you can take one step.”

“When will I learn how to use a shield?”

“In good time.”

They got to the town center when it was a good deal more crowded than earlier that morning. Astrid shouldered her way through the mass of people with Anna trailing close behind, and they found the others standing around Oaken’s stall.

They exchanged greetings, and Anders looked amused. “I thought this wasn’t your kind of thing, dear sister,” said Anders. Astrid merely grunted in reply.

Since she hadn’t had the opportunity to sleep the night before, Anna was beginning to feel a little weary. She mentally remonstrated herself as the tiredness soaked her bones: Of course, because you shouldn’t even be here today.

But this was a once in a lifetime chance. She knew that. She just had to keep her eyes open, focus on being awake. The tea helped a little, but she still wanted to just take a nap.

She was also feeling a little hungry. She spied Kristoff munching on a long, orange carrot.

“Share,” she commanded.

Kristoff looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “This is reindeer food,” he said.

“Is that so?” she said. “Sven?”

Sven had already taken his cue. He snatched the carrot out of Kristoff’s hands, and a short struggle ensued. Kristoff won back the carrot, but he was now eyeing Sven suspiciously.

“Traitor,” he snarled, and broke off half the carrot and tossed it to Anna.

Anna ate her half with gusto, and winked at Sven.

Just then, a loud, blaring noise split the air, and Anna jumped. Daaa, dun-da-daaa, it shrieked. The sound had too much clarity to be from nature, and in fact it sounded almost musical. Anna looked around for the source of the noise, but found nothing. Anders noticed her consternation and smiled.

“A trumpet,” he said. “That blast was to announce the arrival of royalty.”

Anna’s eyes widened in understanding. “Is it time, then?” she asked.

Now they were all looking, and in the distant part of the square, coming down a cobbled section of road that went off into the south direction, Anna could spy several large poles with pointed ends and pieces of colored fabric flying from them. The fabric at points was triangular and rectangular, and there were all kinds of different colors: purples and magentas and yellows and oranges and greens and blues. The tallest pole was showing off a large, rectangular flag, upon which was emblazoned a six-pointed white snowflake on a field of ice blue.

Kristoff beat her to the question. “What’s that symbol?” he asked.

Anders said, “That’s the sigil of the Royal Family.”

As the procession neared, flags and pennants fluttering and people cheering, Anna realized with a sinking feeling that she was not tall enough to see over the crowd of people. They stood too near together for her to get through them, either. A moment of panic set in, before she thought…

She scrambled up onto Oaken’s stand, now ignored by the shoppers of a minute ago in favor of the new attraction. Oaken didn’t protest, which she considered a small victory. I’ve crossed enough adults today already, she thought.

At first, she didn’t know what she was looking at. At the head of the procession she saw several serious-looking men armed and armored heavily, riding along on prim, well-groomed horses. She had seen horses in the stables before, Kristoff had shown them to her, but these horses stood out. They were tall, and strong, and had soft, clean manes and shiny coats.

At the very front of the procession was a man in silver armor with a white cape slung over his shoulders. The cape was embroidered with silver and on his breastplate the fashion of a silver hawk was carved, mid-dive. Over his shoulder, the silvery hilt of a great sword peeked out. The man had long, white hair and a white beard, and looked old, wrinkles all over his face. He had a smile on his face, and his hazel eyes were beaming at all the onlookers. On his left rode a man in full steel plate armor and a steel helmet with a narrow eye slit and wings on the ears. He was otherwise unadorned except for a shield on his back with the six-pointed snowflake painted on it, and a long sword in a scabbard on his left side.

Kristoff had got up on Oaken’s stall too, and Oaken was standing on the other side of him. Anders came over to Anna and began explaining who was who. Anna looked for Astrid, but she seemed to have disappeared. But before Anna could inquire, Anders started talking.

“That’s the Lord Protector Erik Ulfton,” said Anders, indicating the silver man. “And one of his Royal Guardsmen,” indicating the man in steel plate.

“What’s a Lord Protector do?” asked Anna.

“The Lord Protector is the head of the Royal Family’s bodyguard,” said Anders. “His job is to ensure that the Royal Family remains safe at all times.”

Anna thought of Astrid and how she had taken up her vows in order to protect people. “I bet he must really like the Royal Family, then,” said Anna.

“He might,” said Anders dryly. “Though there have certainly been some Lord Protectors who resented their charges.”

Anna frowned at that. “That seems… dangerous,” she said.

“Indeed,” said Anders. “But it is few enough monarchs that put all their faith in just one person. Look, there’s the marshal, Ser Tore Seastone.”

Riding along behind Lord Erik was a man dressed much less spectacularly, wearing a forest green cloak and dull gray chainmail. His cloak bore the symbol of a blue-gray octagonal rock, and he wore thick dark leather armor with the same symbol and two thick brown gloves. His hair was a dark salt-and-pepper, and his beard was shaggy and unkempt. His green eyes scanned the crowd with a suspicious gaze. On either side of him rode two helmeted men with spears and hard leather doublets.

“What’s the marshal do?” asked Anna.

“He is the master-of-arms, and manages the knights and levies of the kingdom,” said Anders. “In a different way, he is also responsible for protecting the Royal Family. And the whole kingdom, at that. You might say you can’t have one without the other.” He smiled humorlessly.

Anna didn’t quite follow what he meant by that, but before she could chase it up, Kristoff made a noise of astonishment. The crowd began to cheer. Following Kristoff’s gaze, Anna looked – and saw.

Riding behind the marshal, a squat man in a green coat held the banner bearing the royal standard. And he preceded two beautiful horses, upon which sat two beautiful people – a man and a woman – smiling calmly at the adoring crowd.

The man was of an average height, and sat well on the horse, his back straight as an arrow. He wore a dark navy blue doublet with silver buttons, and breeches as white as snow. Slung casually over one shoulder was a maroon cloak clasped with a golden pin fashioned in the shape of a cross patteé, embossed in the center of which was the six-pointed snowflake. He had sandy blond hair that was well-combed, unlike Kristoff’s, and a brownish pencil mustache dusted his upper lip. His eyes were pale blue and serene.

The woman was half-a-head shorter than the man, but also sat proudly in her saddle. She wore a conservative burgundy riding habit that matched her dark auburn hair, and a violet bodice faintly trimmed with silver. At the base of her neck sat a small sapphire brooch that glittered and caught the sunlight, much like her eyes. She had a heart-shaped face and wore a look of quiet optimism, her neatly groomed hair kept in check by a silver tiara studded with a single small diamond.

Though the man wore no crown, which Anna was told was normal, she knew him for the King of Arendelle at once; the woman was no doubt his Queen, the ultimate sovereigns of the kingdom entire. They were so comely, so wonderful, so radiant in their glory, that Anna wanted to shout their praises until she turned hoarse. Long live the King! Long live the Queen! The words came up from within her, roiling in her stomach like a stampede of angry butterflies. They had almost escaped her lips, when something else stole her attention.

Riding behind the King and Queen, on a horse as beautiful as either of theirs’, sat a young woman doing her very best to match her parents’ contented expressions. She sat awkwardly on the horse, too far back in the saddle, almost hunched over. She wore a simple azure blue riding habit and a matching jacket, both trimmed with navy silk. Her pale hands clutched the reins on the horse tightly, and it was clear to Anna that she was uncomfortable. Nonetheless, her face was calm as still water, her blue eyes betraying not a hint of discomfort, her lips pressed into a thin line, closed and unmoving. Her straw blonde hair was fixed into a single large braid that hung loosely behind her, and she wore a simple unadorned black velvet hairband on her head. Not a strand of hair was out of place.

That must be the princess, Anna thought. She looks older than me. Then she remembered the princess was thirteen.

Anna was staring, now, struck by the princess’s nervous impassivity. She did a good job hiding it, but she was not at ease riding, and her knuckles were white with the stress of holding the reins, while her stony eyes were darting around the crowd. Anna didn’t know what could be wrong. The crowd was cheering – they adored her and her parents. She was surrounded by tough-looking warriors, some of whom had to be knights, Anna realized, and she…

She was looking directly at her.

The eye contact lasted, in truth, for less than a second. The princess’s gaze found Anna’s and froze. A pebble dropped into the still water. Emotion rippled across the princess’s face. Her eyes widened the tiniest bit, her lips parted, her jaw slacked. Just then, Anna felt a stiff cold breeze, and saw it rummage across the crowd, upsetting hats and hair.

The princess’s head snapped away suddenly, and she was staring dead ahead at the space between her parents, her jaw locked. She was no longer looking around at the crowd. The small hairs on Anna’s neck stood up, and a chill ran down her spine, even as the wind died and the warm summer stillness resettled.

“…the Royal Family,” Anders finished explaining. “Princess Elsa is the only child of the King and Queen, and heiress to the Kingdom.”

“Princess Elsa?” repeated Anna. She didn’t mean it as a question. She only wanted to say the words. For some reason they seemed impossible, like those words didn’t exist, couldn’t exist, and what Anders had just said was unutterable nonsense.

“Yes,” said Anders. “The girl in the blue dress, there. Elsa’s her name.”

Anna took a second. “That’s a pretty name,” she whispered. It was all she could think of to say.

Behind the Royal Family came a stick-thin teenage boy with shaggy brown hair and a doublet that was much too large for him. He also carried a pole with a flag on it, and that flag bore a standard of a black cross patteé, in the center of which was the six-pointed snowflake in white, all on a field of ice blue. Except for the cross with the wide-tips, it looked similar to the royal standard, Anna thought, and a little unnecessary. She recognized the cross from the King’s clasp as well.

Kristoff asked again, “So what’s that flag for?”

Anders explained again, “That’s the flag of the kingdom. The cross represents our strength and valor. Not once since its founding has the kingdom been broken. And we owe that to the Royal Family, whose heraldry you can see there in the center – that snowflake.”

“I recognize the snowflake,” said Kristoff. “It was just the other part.”

“What do you mean when you say the kingdom has never been broken?” asked Anna.

Anders smiled knowingly. “I mean that many outside forces have tried, but not one has been able to shatter Arendelle. They call us the glacier of the north. The most recent attempts, well, let’s see…” Anders scratched his perfect chin. “It was before my time, but fifty years ago the Kingdom of the Southern Isles attempted to invade and raid Arendelle. They braved the icy reefs in their longboats and landed just north of the capital city. They slogged through the Toadsmarsh in the bitter cold and expected to find the city warm and ready for plunder. They found it warm, all right – the embers were still glowing.” Anders grinned wickedly. “They had to slog back to their boats, where they found Arendelle’s army waiting – and their whole fleet burnt and sunk. They surrendered to King Heimdal the Torch shortly after that.

"Then, I was just a boy at the time, but ten-ish years ago, when the current king ascended to the throne, there was a succession crisis with the Duchy of Weselton. That one went about the same way." Anders didn't go on, and turned his head back to observe the procession.

Anna didn’t know that Anders knew so much about kings and kingdoms; in fact, now that she thought of it, he had some stories of his own to tell. Oaken had always told rather fantastic stories, but something about Anders’s stories, by comparison, seemed more tangible. Like they were things that actually did happen, and here was the proof, marching in front of her. And what she heard about war was usually more spectacular than mucking around in swamps and surrendering when your boats were burnt and sunk.

The procession continued on after that, with armored men in finely-adorned breastplates, lords in fine silk robes, and ladies in elegant dresses, many of them kept company by some more plainly-dressed attendants. Anders pointed out the knights and lords for the ones who wore a symbol of some kind, and described the great houses of the kingdom with exquisite detail.

The knights, Anna noticed, came in all kinds of varieties. It boggled her mind a little: some were handsome, some were ugly; some were tall, some short; some well-muscled, others fat; some with long hair, some with no hair; some with beards, some without, some smiling, others scowling. No two wore similar armor, either. One was so completely bedecked in steel plate that Anna was convinced he couldn’t see anything out of his tiny vertical eyeslits. Others, like Astrid, seemed to wear only the bare minimum for armor. Fewer still wore the kinds of shining armor you heard about in stories.

Many of the knights had a young boy, perhaps the princess’ age, maybe a little older or younger, attending them. They were, more often than not, laden down with shields and swords, and some of them held short flags bearing the knight’s standard. Anders explained them for squires, or knight-hopefuls, who would serve a knight until they were themselves knighted. This piqued Anna’s interest, but, to her dismay, not one of the squires seemed to be a little girl.

A great deal more wore no signs or symbols, and attended no lords or knights. “Freeriders,” said Anders. “They attach themselves to processions like this to move around the kingdom more safely.” Anna estimated the procession, in total, numbered at least a hundred. That’s almost as many people as live in the town proper, she thought. In fact, it might be _more._ Anna had never seen so many people before, all said, and she wondered if the Royal Family had taken their whole city with them.

Some wagons came at points along the procession, too, led by horses with woolly legs or big black cows, and the wagons were laden with barrels and crates and bags. “Provisions,” Oaken said, perking up. “Fodder for trading, _ja_.”

The procession made its way to the end of the town center, and coiled around the base of the Lord Mayor’s hill. Anna noticed that Lord Edward was standing there, at the top of the hill, his face sour as usual. On his right, he was flanked by his son, Brendan, and three shabby-looking men armed with spears and axes. On his left, he was flanked by some more soldiers, including, to Anna’s dismay, Astrid.

That makes sense, thought Anna. Of course the Lord Mayor is going to welcome the royal procession accompanied by his family and sworn warriors. But come to think of it, as far as family went, only Brendan was there. Unless one of those soldiers was Lord Edward’s partner? But no – they were all standing too far away. They almost seemed out of place next to the Lord Mayor and the son who was his spitting image. Anna wondered if Brendan only had one parent. Still more than me, she thought bitterly – and yet, his family was smaller. She almost pitied him for that.

As the Royal Family approached the hill, the Lord Mayor descended the steps going up the hill to meet them at the bottom. He began moving his mouth, and she realized that they were talking – and she couldn’t hear a word. She hopped down off of Oaken’s stall and wormed her way into the crowd, shoving and sidling her way past in an effort to get closer to the hill. Behind her, she heard Anders call, “Anna!” but she was already on her way.

She emerged from the crowd at the edge of the procession, even as still more freeriders and knights were continuing onwards into the open field behind the Lord Mayor’s hill. She looked and saw Lord Edward and his son and guards kneeling down before the Royal Family, who one-by-one dismounted gracefully to greet the Lord Mayor. The princess, her face impassive once more, was helped down from her horse by the skinny youth who had been holding the kingdom’s flag.

As Lord Edward and his men (and Astrid) bowed, he said, “Your Grace. You honor us with your presence.” His tone was so humble, almost groveling, that Anna could scarcely believe this to be the same man who had sneered at her all those months ago.

The King smiled warmly as Lord Edward rose out of his bow, and clasped the Lord Mayor’s outstretched hand with both of his own. “Cousin, it is good to see you,” the King said. He turned to regard Brendan. “This is your son, I take it?”

“That he is, Your Grace,” said Lord Edward. “Once my nephew, ‘till I adopted him.” Without missing a beat. “Assuredly of my blood, as you can see from the hair.”

Adopted? Yet another word Anna didn’t know. She sighed. Human families…

Brendan bowed again, perhaps a little stiffly. “Your Majesty.”

The King chuckled. “He has the manner of a Burrows, that is for sure. Gets it from his uncle. I am sure you have met my daughter?”

Princess Elsa stepped forward when mentioned, and Lord Edward and Brendan both bowed their heads to her. “My lady,” they said in unison. Brendan stepped forward, and hesitated. “You are truly as radiant as the singers say, Princess Elsa,” he said. She held out her hand to him, and he knelt and kissed it tenderly. The look she gave the lordling was calm, a careful, neutral smile pressed into her face.

Anna frowned. “No, Princess, he’s a big jerk!” she wanted to shout, but she saw Astrid and held her tongue. This was not a situation that would suffer stupid decisions, she reflected bluntly.

The various lords and sovereigns continued greeting each other, the Marshal and Lord Protector also making their introductions – though from the looks of it, they were already familiar with Lord Edward. At length, the most important of them – the Royal Family, the Lord Protector, the Marshal, the Lord Mayor, his son, some of the Royal Guardsmen, and a few of the Lord Mayor’s men – all climbed the steps of the hill and entered the black timber longhouse. The remainder of the procession moved around to the back of the hill, where tents were being set up.

One who did not enter the longhouse was Astrid, who stood around looking bored at the foot of the steps. Another guard who hadn’t entered was standing next to her, and Anna noticed he had a wide, square jaw and mouse-colored hair, and looked a lot older than Astrid. Slung over his back was an enormous hammer, and he wore a pleased expression. Seeing most of the procession had moved on, Anna approached Astrid.

Astrid noticed her and spoke first. “Hey, wild girl,” she said, smiling slightly. “Did you enjoy the show?”

Before Anna could respond, the other guard cut in. “Wild girl?” he echoed. He looked at Anna. “You’re the wild girl?”

“Uhm,” said Anna, unsure of how to respond. “That’s what they call me.” She smiled feebly.

The man knelt before her. “I owe you, wild girl. My name is Armin, and that was my son you rescued from… from the Lord Mayor’s son. He’s a craven – my son, I mean – but I love him still.”

Anna looked at Astrid. She was frowning, and in general being unhelpful. She looked back at the kneeling man.

“I… don’t mention it,” she managed. “I was only trying to help.”

He looked up at her and nodded once, content. “It was a knightly thing you did. I will repay you for this, I promise.”

Anna was flabbergasted, but fortunately spared the need to say anything more when Astrid spoke. “Don’t go calling her a knight, now, Armin,” she said. “I need her humble if I’m going to teach her anything.”

Armin stood up with a dry chuckle. “What are you teaching her, pray, Astrid? Sword fighting?” he said, a wry smile on his face.

“Yes,” said Astrid.

Armin’s smile vanished. “Gods. You teaching her,” he shook his head. “Soon enough we’ll have two Astrids, and I thought one was bad enough.”

Her teacher just laughed heartily at that, but Anna didn’t think it was very funny. There are worse things one could become than Astrid, she thought. Like Lord Edward, for one thing.

So Anna simply said, “Astrid’s a good teacher.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” said Armin. “I believe she could even teach my son a thing or two.”

Anna’s lip curled. She didn’t like the disdainful way this man spoke about his son, like he was someone to be ashamed of.

After a brief moment, Armin spoke again. “So, what’s your name, wild girl?”

“Anna,” said Anna.

“Anna,” repeated Armin. “That’s a pretty name. My father’s mother was named Anna.” He smiled genially at her, but something about hearing she shared a name with his grandmother rankled her. Not that she minded him, or his grandmother, whom Anna was sure was a lovely person – but Anna was _her_ name. A snowflake’s name.

Well… maybe not. Maybe Anna was a common name, she thought dully. Maybe a lot of people are named Anna. Her heart sank. She felt a little less special now. Anna! Why couldn’t my parents give me a unique name? Like Elsa?

Or did my parents even name me? She realized she didn’t know why she was called Anna. She thought about asking the Wise Troll, and that just reminded her how much trouble she was like to be in when she went home. Her heart sank even further.

She was spared the shame of looking low when Astrid spoke up again. “Anna, how about a lesson this afternoon? I’m stuck on guard duty right now, but before long there’ll be some of those well-dressed knights falling all over for the honor to stand guard in sight of the King.”

Armin nodded. “Aye, that’s true enough. The King has hundreds of knights, all jockeying for his favor and attention.” He grinned impishly. “Makes you more appreciate being one of only six.”

“Only six what?” asked Anna.

“Lord Edward’s six sworn warriors,” said Armin. “It’s a small town, after all, and mostly farmers at that.”

The full meaning of what Armin said hit her. “Hundreds of knights?” she repeated, thinking of the town and its population of dozens.

Armin nodded. “The city is very large, and the kingdom much larger still,” he said. “This town is small, but near the mountains and ice floes. Only reason the Royal Family bothered to come is it’s the last warm spot before the North Mountain. I bet half the procession turns back tomorrow, and the other half will set camp at the mountain’s base and wait for the Royal Family’s return.”

“They ascend the mountain alone?” asked Anna.

“Aye. Crazy, eh?” chuckled Armin.

“It sounds like fun, actually,” said Anna.

“Oh, nothing fun about ghosts, Anna,” Armin said in a superior tone. Anna thought about arguing, but changed her mind.

Instead, she said “I’d better go find Kristoff and Anders, I ran off without telling them.” Armin waved good-bye, and Astrid said “See you later, wild girl.”

Anna made her way back through the crowd, now milling about and, at points, dispersing. But the bulk of the crowd remained, and were finding other ways to entertain themselves. Some people, dressed in brightly-colored clothes, were capering about and tossing items into the air, while others jeered and laughed at them. One man was sitting on a log, his fingers flicking a round wooden cudgel with strings drawn taut over a hollow in the side. There was a peculiar, slow melody coming from the thing, and the man was singing:

_Far up north in the land of glaciers,_

_Icy snows and pitch-black fissures,_

_Where steel cracks and men’s teeth chatter,_

_Came Weasel-town men as soft as batter._

Anna wanted to stay and hear more, but her stomach started to growl. All she had eaten that morning was half of Kristoff’s carrot, and Anders was sure to have some cheese or bread to lunch with. She stifled a yawn and realized she was still tired, too, and recalled with a pang that Astrid had invited her to train that afternoon.

She found Anders and Kristoff in the middle of a discussion, standing next to Oaken’s stall. Oaken was busy bargaining with some traders, and paid none of them any mind, his face fixed into the demeanor of the friendly, easy-to-hoodwink trader that he used when doing business.

“…well, Ser Tore Seastone wasn’t a ‘Ser’ at the time,” Anna caught Anders saying as she walked up to them. “He was squire to Lord Wideriver.”

“Hey,” said Anna. “What are you two talking about?”

“Hey,” said Kristoff, turning on her. “Where’d you run off to? You missed the end of the procession. There were jugglers and dancers!”

“I wanted to see Lord Edward greet the King,” she replied. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but she had really been more interested in seeing the princess again.

Kristoff seemed to accept that, though. “Ah, well, too bad,” he said. “Anders is talking about the Weasel-town War.”

“That’s not what it’s called,” said Anders, his usual perfect smile disrupted ever so slightly. Kristoff was the best at damaging Anders’ calm, even if it only ever yielded minor annoyance, and Anders could usually pay him back in spades.

“Whatever,” said Kristoff.

“So what happened?” asked Anna, concealing a laugh. “In the, um, Weasel-town War?”

“That’s not what it’s called,” reiterated Anders. “It’s named the Weselton-Arendelle War of Succession.”

“That’s a lousy name for anything,” said Kristoff.

“It is what it is,” said Anders, a little testily. “Anyway, the war started when the current king ascended to the throne. Well, the Duke of Weselton claimed that the throne should be his, claiming regency for his nephew, the soi-disant King’s half-cousin once removed.” Anna’s head reeled at these strange terms, and made a mental note to ask about “half-cousin,” and “once removed” – in addition to “adopted.”

Anders went on. “It’s not the first time someone tried to claim the throne on spurious grounds, except the King’s grandparents only sired one healthy child – as all of the Arendelle Royal Family have ever done – and that was the King’s mother. But such questions are rarely decided by laws and books, and the new King was young and ascended the throne when his mother, the ruling Queen, took ill and died rather suddenly. He had scarcely time to be crowned when the Duke claimed the throne and marched his army across the border of Arendelle, to the east.

“The Duke’s army was split into two parts: the first part was his personal levy, one thousand armored knights and five thousand men-at-arms. A modest number, but nothing to threaten Arendelle with. The main strength came from the second half of his army, a band of Coronese mercenaries ten thousand strong, all afoot, all eager to prove themselves. They were led by the feared Friedrich von Aanhaal, a man said to sleep on a bed of the swords of his enemies. They were bought and paid for by the Duke’s personal wealth, for although he was stingy, he was more greedy still, and the thought of a throne won with a penstroke and another man’s sweat and blood no doubt tantalized him.

“The Duke’s plan was simple: Friedrich’s host would move in first and besiege the capital from the east, and the Duke would wheel around the north and besiege it from there. The Duke reasoned that the King could never summon his levies in time, and the war would be won in a swift stroke.

“The King realized the Duke’s plan when the mercenaries reached the city, but the Duke was days behind, lagging because of his lack of experience in leading an army to battle. The King had never fought in battle before, and knew little of strategy, so he summoned his mother’s most trusted commander – Lord Wideriver. He said to move quickly, and gather every man ahorse in the county. The advance must be stopped if we have any chance of gathering our strength, said the King. The Lord Wideriver said, I do not know how, but it will be done, my King, or I shall not return.

“Lord Wideriver sallied forth, squired by the young Tore of Seastone, a dolorous youth of fifteen-years, and lowborn, the son of fishermen, but skilled at arms; he gathered all men with horse in the city and the county. A sad number, not even fifty score in total, but they sat armored and unarmored upon horses of better and worse quality. They were more suited to driving oxen rather than lances, but Lord Wideriver spoke to them and said:

“‘I have been asked by the King, our King, your King, to do the impossible today. The enemy bear down upon us without so much as a declaration of war. He seeks to usurp the throne and break the line of Arendelle. He has brought southerners with him to bolster his numbers. Half of his strength there is ten thousand, and we are one thousand together. But they are green, and dream of oranges and warm beaches. They should not have come to the land of glaciers.’

“Lord Wideriver led his men east of the city, where Friedrich’s host awaited. They were ten thousand, truly, all with pikes, and separated into five blocks of two thousand each, with Friedrich standing proud behind the center block. A formidable force, it must be said, but an old lesson of war is that there are some things a trained knight can do that a hundred men afoot cannot. But what Lord Wideriver might have done that day, there’s no telling, for the mercenaries rose the colors of parley, and Lord Wideriver rode forth, his squire at his side, to meet them. When they were within spitting distance, one of Friedrich’s men nocked an arrow and it struck true, piercing Lord Wideriver’s neck. He had only time to mouth to his squire ‘Go,’ when he slumped and fell from his horse. Tore of Seastone quickly galloped back to the waiting thousand, the jeers of the mercenaries hitting his back, the arrows mercifully falling short.

“The knights and other horsemen were all now nervous, and none said a word, though fear was in their eyes. We must turn back, shouted one knight, and a few echoed him. Fearing all was lost, the squire roared at them. He said that it was now or never, and who must raise the colors of parley only to kill is a deceitful worm that will fold in battle like a house of cards. And so he lifted his lance, and said to them: ‘We punch the center. Charge, and do not falter, or we have already lost.’

“Tore of Seastone led the charge, and his one thousand knights formed a spearhead, pointed directly at the center of the formation. They charged at blinding speed, shouting as they rode, while the defending mercenaries lined up to receive them. The center group was as a porcupine, their pikes like spines, but still Tore’s men charged forward, undaunted, screaming.

“They smashed into the center group and drove hard, men screeching as they were trampled and stabbed, and the center group wavered, broke, and scattered. Still Tore charged forward, directly at Friedrich and his guard. It is said that Friedrich and his scarred, gaunt, sneering face was filled with terror in his final moments, when Tore’s lance took him and separated head from body.

“The battle was a rout. Tore’s men suffered thirty-seven casualties, yet all of the mercenary army was either killed, captured, or had fled. Tore presented the head of Friedrich to his king, and it’s reported Tore said that he wished he had a more suitable gift for the King’s coronation.

“When word of the defeat reached the Duke, he made to flee east, back to Weselton. The King had done with raising his levies and gave command of the cavalry to Tore. Hearing of the success of the young fishing squire, the King’s men rallied and formed – a host forty thousand strong – and marched into the Duchy of Weselton ahead of the Duke’s slow-moving army. One day later, surrounded and in hostile territory, the Duke surrendered.

“Little enough was demanded of the Duchy, which had to pay significant war indemnities – mostly from the Duke’s personal wealth – but that’s not what’s important,” said Anders with a slight smile. “That squire, Tore of Seastone, was knighted by His Grace the King, and officially declared Marshal the next day. Ever since then, he has served as the King’s man – loyal to the last.” Anders rounded on Kristoff. “And that’s why the Marshal is ‘only’ a knight.”

Kristoff huffed and rolled his eyes, his voice overflowing with drama: “You ask a simple question…”

Anna, meanwhile, was floored by the story. The sheer scale of it boggled her. Tens of thousands of knights? All fighting people – not monsters or dragons. It was strangely disappointing, but it made sense in a way. If knights are bound to do combat, and different lords – sometimes enemies, too – all had their own knights, it only made sense that they’d have to fight each other, too.

Then again, this Tore of Seastone sounded like a hero too. Sure, he didn’t rescue anyone. Actually, he let his knight die. And he didn’t kill any vicious beasts. But… he did kind of rescue the kingdom. And he avenged his knight. And he killed a _sort_ of monster. Close enough.

But Weselton had knights too. Were they all evil? If so, didn’t that just mock the whole concept? No, likely they weren’t evil. They just served their own lord. That’s all knights really do, I guess, she thought. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be a knight after all. She sighed. Maybe it was possible to be a hero and protect people without swearing any oaths? Her mind wandered to the Royal Family.

“Hey, Anders?” she said. “Do the Royal Guardsmen ever fight in war?”

Anders thought for a moment. “Very rarely,” he said. “Their most important duty is protecting the Royal Family… but they are still beholden to follow their orders, whatever they may be.”

“Enough about all that, _ja_ ,” said Oaken, interrupting them and stepping away from his stall. To Anna’s shock, there was a completely new assortment of items there, compared to that morning. “Let’s have some lunch. I’m famished!”

Anders broke out a satchel and they all enjoyed a cold lunch of simple fare: goat cheese, soft bread, some cabbage, and, to Anna’s surprise and delight, red apples.

“Got these apples for cheap,” said Oaken with a snigger. “Man gave me a dozen apples for a ball of yarn. He said it was for his wife, _ja_ , but I don’t think his wife told him to make fool trades.”

They ate and talked, though Anna was mostly quiet, deep in concentration and still feeling tired. Once she had eaten her fill, and Kristoff and Oaken were talking about their favorite performers in the procession, she rested her back against Oaken’s stall and closed her eyes.

When she opened them, the sun had moved further down the sky. It was afternoon, and warm, and Kristoff was teasing Sven with an apple.

“This is no carrot,” he lectured Sven. “This is a luxury veggie, so if you want it, you’ve got to work for it.”

Anna stood up with a stretch and looked around. Anders was gone, and Oaken was still haggling with customers. She walked up to Kristoff.

“Hey, Kristoff. I’m going to go see Astrid for a little while,” she told him.

Kristoff nodded, but he wasn’t really paying attention. He kept talking to Sven. “You see, Sven, red is the color of fanciness, so if you want to eat a red apple, you have to be fancy.” Astrid wears red, Anna thought. Kristoff held out the apple and Sven took a slobbery bite. Kristoff clucked. “No, that wasn’t very fancy at all.”

Anna went to Astrid’s house, where she found the front door open. She peeked in and saw Astrid dozing in a chair by the dark fireplace. Anna knocked on the opened door, and Astrid awoke suddenly.

“Oh, Anna,” she said groggily.

“Didn’t get enough sleep last night?” joked Anna, fully appreciating the irony that Astrid was also tired.

“An annoying little kid woke me up this morning,” she grimaced. She rubbed her eyes and beckoned for Anna to come inside.

Anna entered the house and sat in the chair opposite Astrid. “So how was guard duty?”

“Boring,” said Astrid dolefully. After a few moments, she said “I don’t know if I feel like training today, kiddo.”

Anna wasn’t bothered by that. “Yeah, me either,” she said truthfully.

Astrid smirked. “Maybe I should make you do some drills just for being lazy.” Anna stuck her tongue out at her.

They sat in pleasant silence for a little while, until Anna remembered what she had been doing before her little nap. “Oh, yeah. Astrid?” she started. Astrid looked at her. “I was just thinking, because, Anders told us about the War of, um, Weselton, and it seems like knights do a lot of killing and stuff. But not for good or evil, but just because their lord tells them to do it.”

Anna paused. Astrid was watching her, but didn’t say anything, so Anna continued. “So I was wondering if it was possible to fight evil and protect the innocent without being a knight or- or even a sworn warrior, though I guess that if there was a way, you’d have taken it already, since…”

But Astrid was no longer listening. She had stood up and was walking over to her bedroll. She knelt down next to the head of the bed and stuck her hand under the feathery pillow, pulling out from beneath it a small leather-bound book.

She brought the book back over to Anna and handed it to her. Anna looked up at Astrid’s face, but it was expressionless – except for the barest hint of a smile. Anna looked back down at the book and read the title aloud:

“ _The Life and Times of Jeanne d’Arc.”_

 

 


	5. The Maid of Orléans

The book was small and bound with leather, tinted green. A faint yellow thread ran up the binding and the title was embroidered in silver-colored string: _The Life and Times of Jeanne d’Arc_ , in slim lettering. It bore no other adornment, and the whole thing felt a little shabby in Anna’s hands. Tough, but shabby. And… old.

Astrid must have noticed Anna’s puzzled frown, because she began to explain. “Joan of Arc. She was a person who fought evil and protected the innocent,” said Astrid. “And she wasn’t a knight.”

Anna looked up at her. “Huh,” she said. “If she wasn’t a knight, how did she fight evil?”

Astrid blinked. “With her sword arm.”

“So… she just went around the land cutting up bad guys on her own?” said Anna, a little incredulously.

Astrid chuckled. “Not exactly,” she said. “You’ll have to read the book.”

Anna looked back down at the book. “Read the book?” she repeated, and she again turned her gaze back up to Astrid.

Astrid’s countenance fell. “You… _can_ read, can’t you, Anna?”

“I think so,” she said, a little warily. “Oaken and Anders and Kristoff say I can. I just look at the letters and they… they make sense to me.”

Astrid seemed to relax again. She smiled and said, “That should be good enough.”

Anna looked down at the book again, pensive. Astrid put a hand on her shoulder. “Remember, you don’t need anyone’s permission to fight evil,” she said. Anna could sense her smirk. “But it helps.”

She was still thinking about those words when she rode with Kristoff back to the crossing. The sun was almost set, and as the stream grew closer and closer, panic took root in her mind. She was going to pay for disobeying the Wise Troll. She felt like she was going to her execution. She clutched Astrid’s book tightly in her arms. Even if he bans me from ever leaving again, she thought, at least I’ll still have this book.

“So you let me know if I need to beat anyone up,” said Kristoff, stopping the sled at the crossing. She wanted to laugh at him, tease him, say “You? Beat someone up? Get real!” But she just nodded and smiled. “Will do,” she said weakly. Kristoff gave her a thumbs up, and Sven whickered, and they were off towards the ice fields again.

Anna trudged down the stream, back to the troll cairn, her footsteps getting slower and more ponderous as she went. She was filled with dread by the time she stood at the place where she had left her grass clothes. She changed out of the clothes she got from Astrid and back into her usual moss-woven tunic and grass skirt. She noticed they felt a bit itchy.

I might as well get this over with, she thought, and walked to where she had left Braffly.

No one was there. Likely most of the trolls were asleep at this time of day, so fewer manned the watch. Anna let herself feel a little hopeful, for a second, but it was fleeting. The Wise Troll was either awake, or would soon be awake, and it made no real difference. She kept going.

By the time she was among the huts, she saw some trolls standing around in front of the Wise Troll’s hut and its two silver pines. She looked and recognized Rain, and Loot, and Braffly – and the Wise Troll. A few other trolls were awake, too, but they looked groggy.

The Wise Troll saw her coming and fixed her with a stony glare. She walked up to him, book in hand, and faced her judgment.

A long period of silence passed, and Anna inspected the faces of those gathered. Rain looked absurdly guilty, and fidgeted; Braffly, as ever, confused; and Loot looked smug and defiant. The rest of the trolls’ faces were a mixture of admonition and worry – but mostly worry. Anna felt bad. Of course they were worried. Her family was worried.

But why? Whatever for? She had been going to the human town for months now, and the only trouble she got in – well, she hadn’t told anyone about it. But really, didn’t that just mean they had no cause to be worried? Maybe the Wise Troll had told them something he hadn’t told her. Her previous feeling of contrition was replaced with one of slight bitterness. If there was danger, he should have told her exactly what it was. Then she wouldn’t have had to disobey him. She could have been reasonable, but he wasn’t.

The Wise Troll was eyeing her with a deep frown carved on his face. When the silence seemed like it had stretched on forever, he spoke. “Anna, you sneaked out this morning,” he said. His tone was not accusatory, just factual.

Anna couldn’t think of any other way to respond than, “Yes, I did.” She paused, then kept going. “But I only did it because I -”

The Wise Troll held up a hand and she stopped talking. “I know why you did it. Loot here had quite a few things to say in your defense.” The Wise Troll sighed. “I realize I was not forthcoming with you, and for that I apologize.”

Anna’s mind was racing. He was apologizing to her? But why?

“However,” he continued, “you still disobeyed me, and even if you thought you had a good reason for doing so, you must know that’s unacceptable. I only want what’s best for you, Anna. Do you understand that?” He looked sad despite the kindness of his tone.

Anna nodded sullenly. The guilty feelings were at the forefront of her mind again.

“I’m putting you on laundry duty,” he said. Anna breathed a sigh of relief. “You are banned from leaving the village for one month.”

Anna bit her lower lip and was quiet. Was that it? She dared to feel hopeful again. One month was nothing! She did her best to look downcast.

The Wise Troll looked at her for a long moment, and then said, “You must be tired, so off to bed with you. When you wake up tonight, I want you to take care of the laundry. Rain will be joining you.” He tapped the end of his rock staff against the ground. “That’s it.”

She nodded again, and turned to leave when a question came to her mind. “Wise Troll,” she said, “May I ask… why you didn’t want me to see the Royal Family?”

The Wise Troll took a deep breath and let it out in a rattling sigh before replying. “I was simply worried,” he said, looking away from Anna. “I thought it might be dangerous, with all the people there. Mayhap I was wrong,” he spared her a glance out of the corner of his eyes, “but that was my reason.”

Anna accepted this answer and replied with a courteous bow before she went off to her bed without another word. Her bed was quite unlike Oaken’s: it was a thin sheet of clean, woven moss, intended for caterpillaring up in. Like all troll-woven moss, it hosted no bugs, neither was it dirty nor itchy. But it wasn’t soft either. It was simply warm, and always guided her to sleep with perfect serenity.

Her bed was nestled in the corner of the cairn, at the foot of a big brown pine tree whose canopy blocked the sun and elements nicely. Sometimes, on clear warm nights when she had to go to sleep, she dragged the bed out so that she saw the stars when she lay down. She didn’t quite feel like doing that tonight, however, so she just curled up in the mossroll and thought. Her heart was pounding, she noticed, but the danger had passed. It hadn’t been that bad while it was happening, and now that it was over, it was nothing. The only scary part was the thinking about it beforehand.

Her lids closed heavily, grateful for the relief from the taxing effort of remaining open all that day. As she did, her mind wandered back to the events of the day. She relished them wickedly. She got to see the Royal Procession after all. The knights, the lords, the ladies, the Royal Family, Princess Elsa. Princess Elsa…

Dreaming. She knew she was. There was a snowman. She saw it in her mind’s eye: three misshapen lumps of snow, stacked on top of one another. Lumps of coal lined his torso like buttons on a jacket. Two arms made of twiggy sticks. His hair – ha! – his hair was also twigs, three tall twigs poking out of the top of his head. His nose was a carrot and his eyes were two black stones.

The universe was in those eyes.

She opened her eyes and beheld the empty ballroom. She stretched her fingers, and the air shivered playfully at her touch. Her heart was singing now, thrumming powerfully. Then there was the snowman. _Her_ snowman.

She spun the snowman around and moved the twiggy arms. Her voice was like melting slush, it sounded so odd in her own ears: “Hi, I’m Olaf, and I like warm hugs!” She waved the twiggy arms vigorously as she spoke.

“I love you, Olaf!” She heard a happy shriek. She saw a little girl with red pigtails and glowing eyes run up and hug the snowman tightly around the middle. She gazed fondly at the little girl, and then… the panic set in. The girl was freezing, now, she saw it – where the snowman was touching her, ice was spreading. Quickly she tried to brush away the frost with her hands, but that only made the ice spread faster. She backed away and stumbled, falling. No, no, no, no, not again…

Anna woke with a sudden gasp, terribly surprised that it was warm out. She lay in her mossroll there for what felt like hours, letting the heat of morning wash over her.

Morning. She had slept too long.

A little shaken, she threw off the mossroll and proceeded to the stream, ready for a day of laundry.

That day and night, Anna did her chores without a peep, grateful for the light sentence so easily served. It was with a pang that she realized she couldn’t go to the crossing to see Kristoff for a whole month; and she wouldn’t be able to train with Astrid in all that time, either. Still, one month would pass soon enough.

Rain was also stuck with laundry duty, which she considered supremely unfair, as Loot had been given no apparent punishment. Since that night’s duty consisted of washing clothes by the moonlight with Rain, who was Anna’s only conversation partner, Anna suspected it might have been to keep Loot and his bad influence away from her. She thought that more than just a little unnecessary, since she had set her mind on escaping long before Loot told her to do just that, but it didn’t bother her much.

The next morning, after a long night of carrying clothes to the stream, washing them, hanging them to dry, and carrying them back to the village, Anna was exhausted physically - but not mentally. She lay down in her mossroll, her arms crossed behind her head, and thought.

She remembered the book that Astrid gave her, and pulled it out from the folds of the mossroll where she had stowed it, a very thin, green book that blended well with the moss. She stared at the cover for a long time, and then she cracked the book open to the first page:

  
  


THE LIFE AND TIMES OF JEANNE D’ARC

A curt, modest record of the life of Jeanne d’Arc, her passions, and the politics she paid no heed, as written by _Lord Oliver Bagrush_ of Bagrush Hill

  
  


IT HAS NOT BEEN many years since the conclusion of the Long War, which the west of our great continent had long been embroiled in. I have not taken it upon myself to render a complete history of the war, much less its hazy beginnings, but rather I have decided to chronicle the efforts of the one woman most responsible for its final conclusion. She has been called many names in the short years since, some creative, some unflattering, some reverent, some inhospitable – but she is most commonly known as Jeanne d’Arc, or Joan of Arc in the Northern tongue.

Before I discuss the life of Joan of Arc, I will briefly delve into the background and circumstances of her birth. By the time she was born, the Long War had been raging for 70 years. The exact reason for its start was hazy, and still is today. What is known is that the Kingdom of Lutetia and the Kingdom of Albion were at war, and the kings of both countries claimed the crown of Lutetia for their own. The original claimants were long dead, but their sons carried on the fight.

The Kingdom of Lutetia is an old kingdom, and traces its roots to the Helvetian Empire that once sprawled across the continent. There were two other kingdoms that inherited the Helvetian legacy, being the Kingdom of Corona and the Kingdom of Lotharia. The Helvetian Empire was also known as the Empire of the Sun, stretching, as it did, from east to west – sunrise to sunset. Upon its breakup, the kingdoms of Lutetia and Corona based their heraldry on this heritage – Lutetia opting for a shining star, and Corona opting for sunbeams. Lotharia, meanwhile, was the middle country between the two greater kingdoms to its east and west. Except at noon, then, it was said that Lotharia constantly lived in the shadow of its neighbors. They were dubbed “the land of shadows,” and their heraldry was a purple crescent moon on a black field.

Over the years the Lutetians grew quite superstitious when it came to the light and the sun. Though there was no such thing as an organized religion to this effect, Lutetians became known for phrases like “the Sun knows,” and “may the Sun shine upon you.” The Lotharians, meanwhile, went in exactly the opposite direction, and spoke of shadows and darkness. It was a stark enough difference, to be sure, and over the ages each kingdom’s faith became maligned, even forbidden, in the other. Lutetians disavowed witchcraft and shadowy arts, and Lotharians shunned the light.

The Kingdom of Albion is also old, though not quite as old as Lutetia. The kingdom was originally formed when a Lutetian duke named Shreccus the Great – an ogre of a man, it is said – led his army across the Straits of Albia and deposed King Farquad the Unready of the Kingdom of Duloc. While an interesting story, it is a long one, so it will be left for another time. Today Albion is bordered by the Kingdom of DunLoch in the north, and the rump Kingdom of Duloc in the west.

Returning to the point at hand, Joan of Arc was born in Lutetia, in a time of an endless war between two proud and old countries. There was much enmity and strife in those days, in those lands, so it is remarkable indeed that she should have turned out the way she did.

Joan of Arc was lowborn, the child of two peasant farmers of turnips. Little enough is known about her parents, but it is clear that they were loving, honest folk, pious and loyal to Lutetia. They instilled these same values in the young Joan, who, growing up, used to say that she loved three things most: “The Sun, Lutetia, and Lutetians.” She was an exceptional peasant, but not special because of that. No, from a young age she was unusual in that she entertained a great enthusiasm for swordplay. Often she ran around her village, wooden sword in hand, playing with the boys and pretending to be one of the ancient Helvetian Warriors of Light.

Where exactly she acquired her martial skill is unknown. Whether it was a simple gift from the inscrutable heavens, or the result of training with a hidden master, no one can say. However, by the time she was 16, she possessed a latent military genius, apparent only when she won her first victory.

This victory was all the better fortune for Lutetia, because the kingdom was on its last legs. The hosts of perfidious Albion were pushing ever further. They laid siege to the city of Orléans, the white citadel – a gleaming city on a river, with high white walls. Orléans occupied a strategically important position for Lutetia, it being the last bastion before the Lutetian heartlands would be laid bare to the invaders.

When Joan of Arc heard the news, it is said that she prayed to the light to show her how she could help; and it is said that the light told her to beseech the king, and go to Orléans.

The Lutetian king’s court was in disarray once the news of Orléans’ siege came through. The king’s council, led by the supercilious Chancellor Claude Frollo, were a mistrustful and suspicious lot, though they made a good show of being faithful. The king was young, and timid, and relied on them for much.

So when Joan of Arc gained an audience, and told him that he must give her an army and march on Orléans, the councillors scoffed. “She is just a peasant girl,” sneered the Chancellor Frollo. “Vermin. Orléans is the white citadel, the Albionese will break themselves against it as waves break against a cliff side.”

“I am a peasant, my lord,” Joan of Arc admitted. “And I am a girl. But I tell thee, Your Majesty, I speak the light’s truth. I have seen victory at Orléans, and defeat should nothing be done. A cliff may weather one wave and be unchanged, or even ten, but can it weather ten thousand?”

Despite the jeers of his council, the king saw goodness in her heart. He dared to feel a spark of courage as he saw this young woman brave all just to speak to him, and he said: “May the Sun shine upon you! I will give you what I can spare.”

The machinations of the councillors did not permit this to be very much, however, so in truth Joan was given the dregs of a following. Still, she was undeterred, and made her way to Orléans. Along the way, she spoke and preached to the frightened people of the towns and hamlets she visited. When she talked of the way the light had spoken to her, people were moved to tears, and they began to take up arms and join her.

When she got to Orléans, she was followed by a host of men, mostly simple, all of whom believed in her and the light, and fought for no lords but rather for the young Joan, from Arc, and Lutetia.

Joan happened upon the city as the besiegers were snoozing, flat-footed and unwary, in dead of night. She fell upon them with her host, and though they rallied, she beat them back and over the rivers, around the hills, and through the forests. When all was said and done, the Albionese had fled, and Orléans was saved.

When word of the lifting of the siege reached the king and his council, they were shocked. They left for Orléans in great haste, and arrived to find the city celebrating Joan, of Arc, and hailing her. “The Maid of Orléans!” they cried, tears in their eyes. “Hail to Joan of Arc!”

The king was frightened by this turn of events, fearful that his people should love her more than him. He asked the council what he ought to do, and they schemed.

Finally Chancellor Frollo said to the king, “The peasant girl Joan’s work here is foul sorcery. She claims to serve the light, but she fought the Albionese under cover of darkness. What servant of light would do such a thing?”

The king decided to put Joan of Arc on trial for witchcraft, and he himself presided. He asked Joan bluntly: “Joan of Arc! You stand accused of dark sorcery, a great crime in the Kingdom of Light. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty,” said Joan stoically. “I serve the light and the kingdom.”

“Nonsense!” cried Chancellor Frollo. “Is it not true that you attacked the Albionese in darkest night? How is this the work of a true servant of the light?”

“My lords,” said Joan, still calm, “I am a simple girl, and I love only three things: my country, my countrymen, and the light. All my life I have only wanted to serve Lutetia. When word of the Siege of Orléans reached me, I prayed and fasted for a week to know what I could do. Then the light spoke to me, and told me to beseech my king, and to go to the city. I did this thing, and I put myself at the mercy of the good king. Is that wrong? If it is, you may burn me for sorcery – but I shall not admit to darkness when, in my heart, I have only served the light.”

The king was moved to tears by Joan’s confession, and he declared the trial over. “Not guilty!” he exulted. “O, Joan of Arc, truly you are the spirit of Lutetia. I pray thee forgive me for doubting your purity.”

And Joan said to him, “My king, I serve at your pleasure, and at the realm’s. Forgiveness is not mine to give.”

But the council was not so touched, and in fact now they grew fearful of Joan’s influence. The king was growing fond of the Maid of Orléans, and if she kept winning battles, soon his ear would be hers to command his attention - and hers alone. Dear reader, you may know as well as I that Joan had no such interests – but that is hardly relevant. Men such as those on the king’s council are deceitful and mistrustful by nature, and see the same in all others.

Realizing he was running out of options, Chancellor Frollo hatched a final plan. He went to the king with the council at his back and told the king that the Kingdom of Lotharia had moved against him. The Chancellor said that the Lotharians moved all their forces to the north to help Albion, and left their great castle bare. This was a perfect opportunity to strike, said the Chancellor, and Joan must be put at the head of an army sent east to storm the castle and force Lotharia to surrender. The king thought it a good plan, and thanked his council for finally trusting Joan.

That night, Joan had another vision, provided by the light of the moon. The light told her that she must go north, but not east, if she desired glory.

The next morning, Joan spoke to the king thusly: “I know my next move, my king. I am to go north. I desire your leave and your blessings before I take my host and march.”

The king was inconsolable. His council and Joan were asking for conflicting things. He asked Joan: “Why must you go north? Albion’s forces are gathered in strength there. You will be destroyed.”

“The light told me to go north,” she explained simply.

The king dithered long on this point. At last he said, “My council has told me that you must go east, to seize Lotharia’s capital and force their surrender. Surely you can see the wisdom in such a move? The north is folly, I am sure!”

Joan merely shook her head. “My king, it is the light’s wish, not mine.”

The king realized Joan would not be persuaded. So he said, “I shall go north! I will take the bulk of my men and go north, if you go east. That way I can do as the light commands, and you can do as my council requests.”

Joan knelt before the king and said…

  
  


Anna stifled a yawn, closing the book as she did. Reading was hard work, and required all of her concentration, and so tended to tire her out quickly. Some of the bigger words were a struggle to get through, and it was slow going. Still, she was almost finished.

It had been a month, now, with her sneaking slow, short periods of reading in the mornings before she slept. Tomorrow – or tonight, rather – the term of her punishment would be up, and she could go back to the village, be free to wander again. She couldn’t wait to see Kristoff and Astrid. She hoped her skill at sword fighting hadn’t slipped too much. She had tried to get in some practice with misshapen branches and twigs, but it wasn’t the same, although it was better than nothing.

The next morning, after receiving a confirmation from the Wise Troll that her punishment had indeed been served, she changed into her human clothes – tunic, leggings, belt, and all – and went to the crossing, skipping the whole way. She hoped that Kristoff would be passing by today, but on the other hand she worried for a moment that something might have changed in the past month, and maybe Kristoff didn’t pass by anymore.

The worry was dispelled when, in short order, Kristoff came rattling down the trail. He looked no different than he had a month ago, perhaps a little more dour than usual, but then he saw Anna and his face lit up.

“Anna!” he shouted, and he stopped Sven at the crossing. She beamed at the two of them. “Gods, I thought you were never coming back!” he said to her as he hopped off the sled.

She smiled at him. “The Wise Troll banned me from leaving the village for a month. But… that month is up, so…” She kept on grinning.

Kristoff laughed. “So, what have you been up to?”

Anna shrugged a little bit. “I turned 10 years old, and mostly I’ve been washing laundry, and I’ve been reading a book Astrid gave me.”

Kristoff had looked impressed enough at the 10 years old part, but upon hearing about a book his jaw half-dropped in envy. “A book?” he repeated blankly.

Anna nodded. “It’s about Joan of Arc, a hero of –”

“What’s it like? Reading a book, I mean?”

Anna shifted uncomfortably from one shoed foot to the other. “It’s… I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like listening to a story, but… a lot slower, that is, slower than hearing a story like the ones Oaken or Anders tells.”

Kristoff scratched his chin, a thoughtful frown on his face as he stared off into space. Anna punched him in the arm. “C’mon! Let’s go into town! It’s been too long since I’ve been there!” So the two of them got on the sled and Sven started moving.

Oaken and Anders were overjoyed to see her again, and asked a lot of questions about what happened. Anna explained that she had been banned from leaving the village for a month, but, well, that month was now over.

“You were grounded, _ja_ ,” said Oaken.

“What did you do in all that time?” asked Anders.

“I mostly did chores,” said Anna. “But I’ve also been reading a book that Astrid gave me.”

“Really?” Oaken’s eyes lit up. “What book?”

“It’s a book about Joan of Arc,” Anna began saying, but was cut off by a short laugh from Anders.

“Yeah, Astrid loves that book,” he said with a chuckling sigh. “It’s certainly a nice enough story.”

Anna frowned. “Isn’t it true?” she asked.

“Mostly,” conceded Anders. “It’s truth of a sort.”

They continued talking until Oaken remembered he needed Kristoff to make a delivery for him. Anna took this opportunity to seek out Astrid, so she excused herself from the company of the men and went to Astrid’s house.

Upon her arrival, she heard sounds coming from the backyard – grunts and rustling. She wound her way through the fat pines surrounding Astrid’s house and entered the clearing in the back, where she saw Astrid sitting on a stump and struggling to fasten a thick, white string to both ends of a long, yew stick. The string was too short for the stick, so Astrid had to bend the stick near in half to get the ends close enough.

Seeing Astrid was deep in concentration, Anna decided not to disturb her with a “hello.” She stepped forward quietly, careful not to startle Astrid at her work. Then she stepped on a twig, which snapped with treacherous loudness.

Astrid’s head shot up, her concentration lost. She released her hold on the stick and it straightened out again, string and stick-end further apart than ever. For a second, her eyes were wide and startled, her expression tense, her mouth drawn into a thin frown; but as she realized it was Anna, she seemed to relax.

“Wild girl,” she said. “Long time, no see.”

“A little bit,” said Anna. She felt bashful. “Sorry for, um, disturbing you. What are you doing anyway? That looks really difficult. Do you want any help? Maybe I could… um…” She stopped herself from rambling anymore. Her face was burning.

Astrid just kept on looking at her, and then she smiled. “No worry, I was just practicing.” She set the stick down on the ground and rolled up the string, depositing it into a pocket on her trousers.

“Practicing what?” asked Anna, curiosity overpowering embarrassment.

“Stringing bows,” said Astrid. “Like the kind archers use.”

“Oh,” said Anna quietly. “Um, I thought you didn’t know archery?” She winced as she said it; the tone was more accusatory than she would have liked. “I mean, not that I think you couldn’t do it, but it’s just, the last time I asked about archery, you said -”

Astrid laughed and waved Anna to silence. “You’re right, I am no archer. But stringing bows is a useful talent still, and I just wanted to make sure I could still do it.” She sounded genteel enough, but Anna wasn’t convinced.

“So you were just stringing a bow for fun?” asked Anna flatly.

Astrid sighed and rubbed her temples. “No,” she admitted. “But it’s a long story.”

“I have time,” said Anna chirpily, and she skipped over to a stump opposite Astrid and sat down.

“Maybe later,” said Astrid. “What have you been up to this past month?”

“I did a lot of chores,” said Anna, reciting now for the third time the exploits she’d been up to that past month. “And I have been reading that book you gave me.” She paused for a second, and then remembered. “Oh yeah, and I turned 10 years old.”

Astrid smiled at her and said, “Happy birthday. Do I need to get you something?”

Anna looked at her, puzzled. “Why would you need to get me something?”

“For your birthday?” said Astrid blankly. That this meant nothing to Anna must have been apparent to Astrid, because she went on. “In human society, it is customary to give gifts to someone on their birthday.”

“Oh,” said Anna. “In troll society, we don’t really make a big fuss about it.” Anna thought for a second, then added “Except for 15th birthdays, I think. Because that’s when trolls become adults. The village gives the troll whose birthday it is one special gift based on who they really are. Deep down.”

“Well, humans give gifts for every birthday,” said Astrid with a smirk.

“But you already gave me a gift,” protested Anna. “Two, actually. No, wait – three. You gave me these nice clothes, and-and the book about Joan of Arc, and the free sword fighting lessons, and…” As she talked, she realized that Astrid had done a lot for her in the few months since she met her. She began to feel absurdly guilty and privately vowed to pay her back, somehow.

Astrid just laughed and smiled fondly at her. “All right, all right, I get it,” she said, spreading her hands in surrender. “So, you’ve been reading the book about Joan of Arc? Did you finish it?”

Anna shook her head. “No, I… to be honest, it’s kind of hard to read.” She gave Astrid a sheepish grin. “I mean, I’m not exactly used to it. Reading, I mean. I only read a little bit every day. I’m getting better, though!”

Astrid nodded. “So what do you think?”

Excited at the opportunity to talk about Joan, Anna launched herself into discussion. “I really admire Joan,” she said. “She’s strong and noble, and fights on her own, for her own reasons. And when she talked to the people, they rose up and joined her! Even the king respects her!”

Astrid kept on nodding, and when Anna stopped, she asked “How far in the book are you?”

“Um,” started Anna, gathering her thoughts. “The king asked Joan to go east, but… she had a vision telling her to go north.”

“And?”

“I stopped reading,” said Anna.

Astrid looked taken aback. “You stopped? But you’re coming up on the best part!”

“The best part?” That surprised Anna. She wondered what triumph of Joan’s Astrid was referring to. Maybe she defeated the king of Albion in some grand showdown?

“Yeah! You should try to finish the book tonight, and then come back tomorrow so we can talk about it.” Astrid grinned toothily at her, and Anna couldn’t help smiling back.

“Okay,” she agreed.

They continued talking, sitting on their respective stumps in Astrid’s backyard, for a long time. Anna never learned what Astrid’s reasons were for practicing bow-stringing, but since they discussed other things it flitted from her mind. Astrid mentioned that it was probably time to start training Anna with a shield as well, since she now had the basics of swordplay down.

After they finished talking, Astrid drilled Anna in some sword fighting exercises, and when she was too tired to do any more, she was dismissed.

“Just as well,” said Astrid. “You’ll probably need to head back with Kristoff soon.” Anna agreed, and moved to hand Astrid the wooden practicing stick. Astrid regarded the stick, in Anna’s outstretched arms, with a long and thoughtful gaze.

“Um,” said Anna. “Here you go.”

A devilish smile crossed Astrid’s face. “No, that’s yours, now. Happy birthday, kiddo.”

Anna gaped at her, and a queasy feeling developed in her stomach as she remembered all the other things Astrid had done for her – but even as she thought this, excitement trampled guilt. “Do… do you mean it?”

“Yeah. It’ll be good for you, to practice when you don’t come to town. Just take good care of it, all right?”

Anna smiled wide. “Thank you!” she squealed, and she ran up and hugged Astrid around the middle.

For a split second, she felt oddly cold as she hugged Astrid, like she had jumped into a snowdrift – but when Astrid returned the hug, it was warm and comforting. “Don’t mention it, wild girl,” she said softly.

When Anna left the small house and its fat pines, she began to feel somewhat parched – and a little hungry. On the one front, she decided she could solve part of her problem by taking a detour near the well, to draw up some water to drink. So she took a different path back to Oaken’s cabin.

At the bottom of the well hill, behind a lousy old shack, Anna heard voices talking. When she rounded the corner of the shack, she saw a dark-haired boy and a small gang of accomplices surrounding a short, mousy-haired boy. The younger boy was unharmed, but clearly terrified. Anna felt bile rise in her throat. Brendan and his gang. Martin. Again.

“Martin, I’m not asking for much,” said Brendan savagely. “I just want a bucket of water. So go up that hill and get it for me. My boys here will make sure you don’t fall in, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“Yes, Ser, right away, Ser,” squeaked Martin.

“Ser? _SER?_ ” screamed Brendan suddenly, stepping forward to shove Martin. The boy tumbled backwards and landed on his back. “What the ruddy hell do you think you’re doing, addressing me ‘Ser?’ I’m a LORD!”

“Sorry, m’lord,” whined Martin. Brendan took another step forward when Anna cleared her throat loudly, and raised up her stick.

The gang all whirled on her, surprise, unease, and disgust variously splayed on their faces. There were four of them, in total – fewer than last time. They still well outnumbered Anna, and they looked older than her, but Anna was determined not to let it come to fighting. Not after last time. But if they do attack, she thought, I’ll just go get Astrid. She’s not far. But maybe I can whack anyone who gets too close with my stick.

“Oh, _you,”_ spat Brendan. “The filthy little wild girl.”

“Yeah, me,” agreed Anna. She tried to keep her stick level. All the boys except Brendan were eyeing it now. That’s good, thought Anna. I’m too tired to fight, not for real, but maybe the stick will scare them anyway. “You should go away from this place,” she informed the boys helpfully.

“Or what?” sneered Brendan.

“Did you know Astrid lives very close by? She lives in a cabin about forty paces behind me. I could scream and she’d hear,” said Anna.

A dark look passed over Brendan’s face. “Astrid,” he growled. “I’m not afraid of her.”

I’ve got him now, Anna thought. “If you say so,” she said. She opened her mouth as if to scream, but before any noise could come out, Brendan’s gang broke and ran.

“Cowards! Imbeciles!” Brendan shouted after them. His eyes were angry. He stared daggers at Anna, his furious gaze darting between her practicing stick and her face, which was still poised to scream.

“When I come into my birthright, you’ll be sorry,” he said darkly. With that, he walked away in the direction the other boys had fled.

When the danger was passed, Anna let out a sigh of relief, and she let down her trembling, sore sword arm. She walked up to Martin, still lying on the ground, eyes wide with shock. She extended a hand to help him out. She racked her mind for something cool or heroic to say. “So, Martin, was it?” she said. That’ll do, she supposed.

“Y-yeah,” he stammered, and he took her hand and stood up. He was a small boy, thin and short, and, Anna supposed, a little younger than herself – with hair as brown as a field mouse and eyes like yellowgrass. He had a fair complexion, but no freckles, and dressed plainly in a tan tunic and breeches. He still looked terrified.

An awkward silence fell. Anna struggled to think of something else to say. “Why do those boys bully you?” she asked at last.

Martin looked at his feet, his face now scarlet with shame. “Because I’m too weak to defend myself,” he said placidly, almost rote.

Anna looked at him, askance. “Who told you that?”

“My father,” the boy said meekly.

Then Anna remembered this boy’s father. Armin. A polite man, who smiled warmly… but she also remembered the way he talked about his son. Anna looked at the boy long and hard, and almost pitied him.

After a few moments of looking at his feet, the boy’s head turned up and he stared at Anna. “Thanks. F-for saving me,” he mumbled.

“No, I’m glad to help,” she said, though on the inside the accolades made her feel good. “I think you ought to learn to defend yourself, though. Can you fight with a sword?”

Martin turned red again and shook his head. “No,” he said.

Anna frowned. “Can you use, um… spears? Axes?” The boy kept shaking his head. “Did your father never teach you to fight?” Anna found that a little unbelievable, since this boy’s father was a sworn warrior, like Astrid, so surely he’d have taught him something.

Martin shook his head again, and then seemed to hesitate. “Well… Astrid says I have a talent for bows and arrows,” he said tremulously.

Anna raised her eyebrows. “Really?” She was dubious, but if Astrid really said that… then that was impressive. She felt a twinge of envy.

“But I think that’s nonsense,” he said quickly. “No. And my f-father says bows are a craven’s weapon.”

Anna looked dubiously at Martin. “Astrid says archers are dangerous.”

The boy shrugged weakly, and looked back down at his feet. Anna suddenly had a thought. “How old are you?” she asked.

“Eight,” said Martin, and Anna’s eyes widened. So Brendan was… five years older than him? Anna felt a surge of rage.

“If you ask me, Brendan’s the coward,” she said sharply. “He has to pick on people five years his junior.” Martin didn’t seem to respond to that, and kept looking at his feet, and soon Anna’s rage dissipated. Why was he so… yielding? Defeated?

“So…” said Anna, “who taught you to use a bow and arrow?”

“No one,” said Martin, still not looking at Anna. He did sound a little less frightened, though. “S-sometimes… I… when I pick up a bow and arrow, something about it just feels so…” He took a deep breath. “Right. It just feels right. I used to play at it a lot, but my dad put a stop to that. He wanted me to learn how to use real weapons, he said.” He finally looked up at her. His expression was still sad, but his tone was no longer cowed.

“That’s silly,” said Anna, and she smiled reassuringly at the mousy-haired boy. “You should do what you like. I’m sure if you talk to Astrid, she’d help you out.”

A pause, and then, “I did talk to her, and she… she said she’d do what she can. I was just going to see her right now, when Brendan…” He shuddered.

In an instant, Anna realized what the bow Astrid had been stringing was for. “Oh, all right. Do you want me to walk you to her house?” she offered helpfully.

Martin shook his head. “No, I’ll be fine,” he said, and a faint smile appeared on his face. “Th-thanks again.” He went off in the direction of Astrid’s house, and Anna watched him go. She felt good to hear that Astrid was helping him out, too. Anna felt like he really needed it. He was only eight, though – that was impressive. She couldn’t remember what she had been like when she was eight, but she was certain she didn’t have Martin’s evident self-control.

Nor his cowardice, she thought dully. She sighed. She really did pity him.

She got her water from the well, drank deep, and continued on to Oaken’s house. Oaken was out back, sawing away at some wooden planks, and Anders and Kristoff were nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Kristoff?” she asked Oaken.

“Making a quick delivery, _ja_ ,” said Oaken. “He will be back soon I think.”

She sat down on the grass and watched Oaken saw. The sun was warm, and shining down on her. The temptation to lie down was strong, and she would have been really drowsy if she wasn’t so hungry.

Kristoff arrived shortly, Sven in tow, and deposited a small jingling pouch with Oaken. “Thank you, Kristoff,” said Oaken, and Kristoff merely mumbled an acknowledgement.

“How is Astrid?” he asked Anna.

“She’s well.” Anna thought it perhaps best not to mention her run-in with Brendan. “I also ran into Martin.”

“Martin?” echoed Kristoff with a bewildered look. “That’s funny, that kid normally doesn’t leave his house. What was he doing?”

“Getting water from the well,” lied Anna. Kristoff just nodded. “He seems like a nice kid,” she added.

“He is,” said Kristoff. “He just has a bad habit for attracting trouble.” Anna frowned. It’s not his fault that Brendan picks on him, she thought.

Anders came out the back door of the cabin just then, and noticed Anna with a warm smile. “Anna, Kristoff says you had a birthday this month!”

“Oh yeah,” said Anna. “Astrid said those are a big deal in human society.”

Anders nodded and beamed. “Yes, we usually give gifts to people on their birthdays. Oaken and I have just the gift in mind, for you.” He and Oaken exchanged a knowing glance.

“No, no, no,” said Anna quickly. “I don’t need any gifts. I’m fine, thank you.”

“Nonsense!” boomed Oaken. “You will love it, and it is a small thing.”

Before Anna could articulate any further protests, Anders produced a small gilded box with little silver hinges. It clearly wasn’t real gold, but it looked gaudy enough. He presented it to her with a flourish.

She took the box and stared at it. “A box?” she asked. She wasn’t exactly disappointed, not having expected a gift in the first place, but being presented with a small fake-gold box certainly left her nonplussed.

Kristoff laughed. “Open it,” he urged.

Tenderly, she opened the box by its lid, and spied inside a small, dark brown ball. “What is it?” she asked.

“It’s called chocolate,” said Anders. “It’s a delicacy from Aztlan, far across the Great Ocean. They mix a special plant called cacao with milk and sugar and… well.” He chuckled.

Oaken piped in. “We know you like sweet things, _ja?_ Well, chocolate is very sweet. I had to pull a few strings to get this, but I think it is worth it.”

They were now all looking eagerly at her, waiting for her to eat it. “Thanks,” she said, and she grinned warmly at them. She plucked the chocolate ball out of the box with a thumb and forefinger, and popped it into her mouth.

She chewed, and the taste was incredible. It was sweet and rich and delicious… and familiar. As she swallowed the chocolate, a strange feeling came over her. I’ve eaten this before, she thought. She knew. Then her vision blurred, and Kristoff, Oaken, Anders, Sven, Oaken’s cabin – they all fell away.

An enormous castle. An enormous room. The room was quiet, and empty, and dark. She flew to the door. It opened noiselessly, and she glided to a huge triangular window. The stars glittered down at her, dancing with light and color, and the moon was as white and bright as fresh-fallen snow.

“Go to sleep!” said the moon.

“I can’t,” she replied. “The sky’s awake, so I’m awake, so let’s go play.”

The moon said nothing. One by one, the stars vanished, until the only thing remaining in the inky night sky was the moon and its pale, placid face.

A hard, cold grip seized her heart and she gasped in pain. She looked up at the moon. Everything else was dark, but not the moon. The moon still shone. She reached her arm out, though it was frozen solid.

The moon disappeared, and all that was left was the black, black cold.

 


	6. The Wrong Decision

Loud-growing murmurs pecked at her head like a flock of angry crows. She opened her eyes against the light of the day, and, amidst the pained fluttering of her eyelids, saw that Kristoff, Anders, and Oaken were all standing over her with expressions of stark concern.

She was lying on the grass. How did she get here? Her recent memory resurfaced: the chocolate. It was delicious, as promised, but also… Her head was swimming as she recalled the feeling.

“You’re awake!” said Oaken.

“Are you okay?” asked Anders.

Anna opened her mouth to respond but only a feeble whine came forth. She converted it into a grunt and tried to sit up, fighting against the thundering turbulence in her skull. “Yeah,” she said at last. “I… I don’t know what happened. The chocolate…” Her voice trailed off.

They all frowned. “Allergic, maybe?” proposed Oaken, clearly distressed.

“Queerest allergic reaction I’ve ever seen,” said Anders dryly. “How does your stomach feel, Anna?”

“My stomach?” The only pain Anna was experiencing came from her head, but even that was now ebbing away. Her stomach felt fine. “It feels fine. Normal.”

“That’s strange,” said Anders.

“Maybe the chocolate was so delicious it knocked her out,” said Kristoff. Oaken snorted in laughter before he checked himself against the graveness of the situation, and Anders shot Kristoff a sidelong glare.

“No,” said Anna. “It was just… an odd feeling, when I ate the chocolate. Like I’d eaten it before. And then everything went dark.”

“Troubling,” said Anders. “I’m afraid I have no idea what this means.”

“Whatever it is, hopefully it will pass, _ja_?” said Oaken, adopting one of the most tentative smiles Anna had ever seen. “Some tea will help clear your mind, I think. And warm you up – you’re cold as death!”

He helped Anna to her feet, and the four of them went into the cabin for a cup of tea.

The three others drank their drinks and conversed while Anna huddled in a blanket and sipped quietly. They made small talk and gave Anna occasional glances, apparently to make sure she hadn’t slipped into another fainting spell. She was sure she was safe, though. As she sat, she racked her brain and tried to remember the dream she had, the pain of her awakening now no more than a dull phantom. But the memories grew harder to grasp the more she thought on them, so she just sipped her tea and sat in silence.

“Sorry about your birthday gift,” Anders said finally, with a sheepish smile. “We’ll make it up to you.”

“There’s no need,” Anna said quickly, at which Kristoff laughed loudly.

“Well after that _last_ gift,” Kristoff teased. Anders, and Oaken scowled at him but he just laughed harder. Anna just looked at him while he laughed uncontrollably, and then she felt herself smile a little; and then she giggled too.

They left the village on a good note that day after all, with Kristoff making light of the situation with jokes where he thought of them – about the trees and the birds and so on. When they got to the crossing, his expression turned serious.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked.

Anna nodded tentatively. “Yeah, I think it was just a one-time thing, you know? Like something weird.” She smiled a little mischievously. “Like ghosts.”

Kristoff smirked in reply. “Well, then, nothing to worry about!”

She walked back to the village, pausing by the bank of the stream where she left her troll clothes to change into her troll village outfit – and to deposit the practicing stick that Astrid had given her. She wondered briefly whether she should tell the Wise Troll about what had happened, but decided against it when she considered that her first day back in town after so long was better reported as wholly positive rather than dangerous in any sense. She settled in for an early nap so that she’d be awake for the evening.

At the end of the night, when morning loomed and Anna was prepared to go to sleep that day, she settled into her mossroll and suddenly remembered the book. She drew it out of its hiding place and leafed to the page that she had marked with a wide blade of grass. It had left a little green stain on the pages but the printing was still readable.

She picked up where she left off:

  
  


The king realized Joan would not be persuaded. So he said, “I shall go north! I will take the bulk of my men and go north, if you go east. That way I can do as the light commands, and you can do as my council requests.”

Joan knelt before the king and said, “Yes, my king, I shall do as you command.”

Thus Joan spake, and she took with her an army unlike the one she marched into Orléans with: the king felt uneasy with his decision to send Joan astray of the path the light had picked for her, so he sent with her his finest knights and best soldiers. Joan had what was needed to do the task asked of her – but not, as it happened, the task she would actually have to do.

She and her host entered Lotharia amidst little resistance, through dark twisty forests and across oozy sour streams, and finally reached the moated Castle Malefice. The castle was a grand sight to behold, with hundreds of gargoyle statues lining the walls and perched on the crenellations, blackened stone comprising every tower, keep, gate, and wall. And the moat was deep and wide. Still, the castle could be sieged, and Joan had her men construct ladders and siege towers using the timber of the surrounding forests.

But it was in the dark of night, when half her host was asleep and the other half keeping a tender watch with small nightfires to keep them warm and company, that from the shadows a great mass of Lotharians fell suddenly upon them, butchering them in their sleep and slashing their horses down. Joan beheld her entire army crumble, and rose her hand to beseech the Lotharians take her prisoner, and spare the survivors. They recognized her as the Maid of Orléans, and bound her in chains and took her to their queen.

“Aha, the Maid of Orléans!” said the queen of Lotharia, when Joan was brought before her. “Speak to me, the one they call Jeanne d’Arc. Why have you come here?”

“It was on the orders of my king,” Joan responded.

“Fool!” the queen hissed. “You went to your death. If you were highborn or noble, you might have made a useful hostage – but you are merely a witch of the light. And for that, the laws of my country demand you be held to account for your service to the light.”

And so a trial was held: Joan’s second trial on the charge of witchcraft. But rather than being tried for working shadows, she was tried for working light, and therein lay her undoing. For you see, dear reader, news of Joan’s first trial had spread across the lands, and her defense was well-known. While many Lutetians weeped with joy to hear of Joan’s acquittal on the grounds of her lightly piety, the Lotharians were infuriated.

Thus came the trial, and the queen said, “Jeanne d’Arc, you stand accused of doing the work of the light. How do you plead?”

And Joan said only, “Guilty. I have served the light, and Lutetia, all my life.”

To which the queen responded, “I hereby sentence you to death.” And at dusk that day, Joan of Arc was tied to a stake, and burnt alive for the crime of heresy.

  
  


Anna stopped reading with a sharp pang. No, that can’t be right. Why was Joan of Arc killed? What for? How could this be a good story? One of Astrid’s favorites, at that? Her heart was pounding. Was there some mistake? She kept reading:

  
  


News of Joan’s death went across the lands of both Lotharia and Lutetia, and all heard that the Maid of Orléans had been put to death. All across Lutetia she was mourned, and none

  
  


Anna slammed the book shut. She felt angry, sad, confused, betrayed, heartbroken – so many feelings were clamoring for release inside her. Astrid had said Joan of Arc was a hero! Anna accused Astrid in her mind. A hero? Heroes don’t die!

She took the book up and jumped out of her mossroll. The sun was slithering up over the horizon, so she still had time. She dashed to the stream, not even stopping to change, and ran up the brook to the crossing.

Kristoff looked like he was going to say something, but she cut him off. “Not right now,” she said, more sharply than she intended. “I need to see Astrid.”

The boy simply murmured “Okay” and they went on their way to town, Anna sick with grief. When they stopped, Anna jumped off the sled and tore off in the direction of Astrid’s cabin. Her teacher was in the back, if the sounds of chopping wood were any indication, and she wove between the fat pines and burst into the clearing, chest heaving.

Astrid glanced up with a look of surprise and a woodcutting axe heaved in her hands. “Wild girl,” she said, blinking. “What’s the matter?”

Anna held up the book and, for a moment, was at a loss for what to say. Then it roared out like a waterfall. “She died!”

Astrid blinked again. “Who, Joan?”

Anna stared up at her teacher dumbly for a moment. “Joan, yes. Joan died. You didn’t tell me she died!”

Astrid lowered her woodcutting axe to the ground and leaned on the end of it wearily. “Wouldn’t that defeat the point of reading the book?”

Anna felt a surge of rage. “What _is_ the point then? How can she be a hero if she gets killed? What’s so heroic about that?”

Astrid leaned more heavily on her axe. “Did you finish the book, Anna?”

“No!” shouted Anna, her face a little warm now. “How can you expect me to finish this book when – when she died? And all because she listened to that stupid king!”

Astrid’s eyes narrowed. “Do you really think it was the king’s fault?”

“Yes!” said Anna immediately.

“Going east was her own decision, Anna,” said Astrid

“Well, it was the wrong decision!” yelled Anna, and only then did she feel the tears in her eyes. She threw the book to the ground and ran off, not in the direction of the rest of the town but in the direction of the mottled woods that lurked clumsily around its outskirts.

She ran stumbling through the growth and trees for several minutes before she stopped and sat down against the trunk of a heavy oak. She was out of breath, and terribly upset, and guilty for a lot of reasons. She didn’t know why she was so sad about Joan. It wasn’t like she knew her, not really. Not like her… mom and dad. Well, she didn’t know them either. At least she knew a little bit about Joan.

She wiped her wet eyes on a dirty forearm. Joan was killed. What else did it matter happened after that? Why bother reading more? The injustice of the whole thing stung her in the heart. How can you defend and protect people and do good if you’re dead? Some hero. Some story. I hope it’s not true, like Anders said, she thought. But she didn’t really know.

Is it true? she wanted to ask.

Is it a true story?

* * *

 

By the time she was 13, Anna was getting pretty good at sword fighting.

At least, Astrid had grudgingly said as much.

She didn’t talk with Astrid about Joan any more since that morning. She abandoned the book and left it alone. When she did go back to Astrid, it was just to practice. And practice she did: she had worked hard these past three years, filling most of her spare moments with drills and other various tasks Astrid set before her.

“Strength is important,” said Astrid, and she had Anna carry buckets of water, lug firewood, and pull carts.

“Dexterity is also important,” and she had Anna catch rabbits bare-handed, snatch fish out of streams (a lot harder than it looked), and dodge things that Astrid threw at her.

“Also endurance,” and Anna did the aforementioned tasks, and others, often; tasks that, Anna observed, almost always had some secondary utility, usually for Astrid’s benefit.

The first time Anna successfully caught a rabbit, she brought the wriggling furry gray thing to Astrid, clutching it as tight as she dared though it tried to cut her arms with its clawy paws.

“I did it,” she panted, out of breath. “I caught the rabbit.”

Astrid grinned. “You caught lunch.”

Anna gaped, and almost lost her hold on the rabbit. “You don’t want to eat this little rabbit, do you?”

“Well, yes, Anna,” said Astrid. “I’m hungy.”

Anna remembered the bear, and the scared look in the its victim’s eyes – the fawn’s eyes. It suddenly occurred to her that capturing helpless little rabbits and eating them ran contrary to her impulse to help the helpless. “No,” said Anna firmly.

Astrid sighed and crossed her arms. “Anna, why not?”

“Because,” said Anna, “I want to help the helpless, not eat them.”

“How is this any different from eating fish? You don’t complain about catching and skinning fish.”

Anna thought for a moment. “I suppose it’s no different at all,” she decided. “So we shouldn’t eat fish either.”

Astrid laughed. “You’re really more of a forest child than I thought. Anna, it’s true that the creatures of the wild are living things too, and they deserve our respect… but they aren’t people. They don’t live in our society.”

She knelt down to look Anna in the face. “Animals face injustice every day of their lives. They kill and eat other animals. That’s nature’s way. We can choose not to live like that, true, but if you let that rabbit back into the wild, you aren’t doing it a kindness. It will die some other way, randomly, at the whim of nature. The wild knows no justice.”

Anna felt deeply troubled by this insight, and frowned heavily. Astrid stood back up to her full height. “Besides,” she added lightly, “meat makes you strong, and if you want to be strong, you have to eat meat. So.”

The taste of the rabbit was good, she supposed, but eating the little guy still rankled her. So as she ate, Anna paused for a moment to say, aloud: “Thank you, Rabbit, for letting us eat you.”

Astrid stared at her in shock for a long moment before she threw her head back, howling with laughter. “Okay, okay, I was wrong,” she gasped out between laughs. “You _are_ a forest child. Completely.”

In the midst of training, Astrid didn’t laugh so easily. She was very serious, then, and hardly ever smiled. Guard like this, like that; don’t lunge like that, keep your footing; faster, now! Despite the difficulty, Anna felt things come more easily to her the more she trained, and slowly but surely she felt more comfortable at swordplay. Anna was more than a little proud when Astrid informed her she was ready for training with a shield. Unfortunately, it only got harder after that, and many days Anna went back to her mossroll feeling quite sore.

But Anna didn’t train alone. Martin had started showing up at Astrid’s cabin with some regularity. He was shy about training in front of Anna, but sometimes she stuck around and watched from behind a tree. It was a different kind of training, his, though: Astrid worked with him at stringing bows and fletching arrows, but she let him alone when it came to loosing them. He didn’t seem to need instruction. He just picked up the bow and… moved like the wind.

One day, Anna caught Martin after she had been spying on his “training,” which she began to suspect was just an excuse to practice his bow without his disapproving father around to see.

“You’re really good at that,” she complimented him. The boy went red and studied her feet at that. In return, she got a stammered thanks, mumbles, and silence.

“Why are you so afraid of me?” she asked, hurt. He met her eyes and gulped visibly.

“I’m sorry, it’s not you, I just- I don’t know what to say,” he replied with a watery voice. “I’m not used to… to people saying I do anything really good.” He inspected the ground.

“Well, take it from me,” she said in an authoritative tone. “You really do have a talent for those bows and arrows. I bet if Brendan knew you had that kind of skill, he wouldn’t bully you as much. Hey!” She gave him a light smile. “I bet that’s why he’s been leaving you alone lately. Right?”

The boy opened and closed his mouth soundlessly, before saying “No, it’s because… because you’ve been in town, if I’m honest.”

She was taken aback. “Me?” she repeated.

Martin nodded quickly. “Yeah, I-I think so. He’s always grumbling about… about, ‘that wild girl,’ how she, um, you – that is – never let him have any fun. That’s… his words, anyway.”

Anna thought for a moment. “No,” she said slowly, “I think he’s actually afraid of Astrid. And he knows that I’m not afraid to go get Astrid if he tries to start trouble.”

The boy shrugged. “If you say so,” he said.

Despite Anna’s humble attempts to brush off Martin’s flattery, she was inflated by this new piece of knowledge. Rather proud. Like the sword lessons were paying off – although, if truth be told, the past three years had been good to Martin, at least as far as Brendan was concerned. Inwardly, she was convinced that he was really afraid of Astrid; he had to be, after all, because he was three years older than Anna, but… she walked back to Oaken’s cabin with a self-satisfied grin that evening.

Lately, Oaken’s cabin hadn’t been seeing as much of Oaken as Anders or Kristoff, or even Anna. Oaken had been a lot busier since he set up a trading post close by the foot of the North Mountain, and it was a day’s ride to or back from the cabin. He was constantly working there, building and making additions to the post. He announced his desire to move to The Haunted Trading Post eventually, to Anders’ annoyance.

“I’m not even convinced the business will be better,” said Anders bitterly, as he poured tea for Anna and Kristoff, huddled before the stone hearth in Oaken and Anders’ cabin. It was late autumn, and becoming quite cold. “The North Mountain doesn’t get a lot of traffic anyway. What’s the sense in setting up a sauna and trading post there, again?”

“More convenient for icers,” said Kristoff happily. He was 14, now, and his voice had recently been dropping into lower registers. It kind of creeped Anna out, to be honest, but every now and again his voice would crack like a glass bottle and squeak like Martin’s. Anna thought it was hilarious when that happened, and the look of embarrassment on Kristoff’s face only exacerbated the hilarity.

“Icers,” brooded Anders, sitting down with his own cup of tea and sipping at it.

Anna decided to tell Kristoff what she had learned from Martin that day, about what Brendan had said about her. She retold the story proudly, but when she was finished, Kristoff didn’t seem nearly so enthused as she was.

“Despite what Martin says, I think Brendan’s really afraid of Astrid,” said Anna.

“I think you’re right,” said Kristoff. “But I wonder what Astrid’s going to do when he becomes the Lord Mayor. For that matter, I wonder why Lord Edward hasn’t done anything already.”

“She is one of his sworn warriors,” Anna pointed out.

“Yeah, sure,” admitted Kristoff. “But, I mean, Brendan’s Lord Edward’s kid, right? That has to come higher up on the list of folk-that-matter than one of his soldiers.”

“Astrid’s important,” Anna insisted. “She said so herself, she’s the equal of any ten warriors this town has.”

“The town only has six warriors,” Kristoff countered. Anna scowled at him.

“That’s beside the point,” she replied hotly. But she did think about it. Brendan had reached the age of majority in human society when he turned 16, and as the Lord Mayor’s adopted son and lawful heir, wielded some influence to that effect. Anna was content to flatter Astrid as the reason Brendan stopped bullying, but then again, if Brendan gave Astrid an order, she _had_ to follow it. Because of the law, and stuff.

So that meant it had to be _Anna_ that he was afraid of. No doubt because she was growing so skilled with a sword.

One day, after training, Anna hoisted her practicing stick over her shoulder, sweat beading her forehead. She set down the iron-ringed wooden shield that she now also used for practicing. It was a battered old thing, and heavy, and slowed her down. When she complained about its unwieldiness, Astrid told her “You can either be unwieldy, or dead. So which is it?”

“Good job today, wild girl,” said Astrid. Anna nodded in acknowledgement.

“If I see Martin, shall I tell him to come by?” asked Anna.

“If you would,” said Astrid wearily.

Anna decided to pay a visit to the well, to bring up some water and refresh herself, and was on the way there when she encountered Martin coming in the opposite direction.

“Hey, Martin,” greeted Anna. She looked him up and down. The 11-year old was still short, shorter than her, with unkempt mousy hair and a gentle, wide-eyed demeanor. He had slung over one shoulder a strung yew bow, and at his opposite hip was a quiver of arrows fletched with gray goosefeathers.

“I see you are all ready to practice,” she said with a wry grin.

Martin blushed a little. “Um. Yeah,” he said. His fingers worried at the wobbly string on the bow, picking at it as he refused to meet Anna’s gaze.

She inclined her head at him, and continued on towards the well.

“W-wait!” said Martin from behind her, a strange note of concern in his voice. “Where are you going?”

“The well,” replied Anna, a little puzzled at this outburst. “I’m thirsty,” she clarified, and turned her head to look back at him.

Martin shifted his weight from one foot to the other uneasily. “The well?” he repeated.

She nodded. “For some water.” She looked at him, worry building up in her at his strange reaction. “Is something the matter?”

“It-It’s just,” he swallowed, “Brendan and his… friends are there,” he said. “Throwing things down the well, like rocks.”

“Oh,” she almost laughed, and relaxed. She gave a nonchalant wave of the hand. “Not a problem, he’s scared of me, remember?”

Martin didn’t seem assuaged by this reassurance. In fact, he looked completely mortified, his mouth gaping a little in shock. But he didn’t say anything, so Anna just gave him a friendly smile and continued on her way to the well, leaving the archer boy behind.

Sure enough, the well had some company – Brendan, at least, quite tall and dark-haired as always, and three friends. Gordan, a beefy, thick-necked boy with curly brown hair; Jon, shorter than the rest, thin but with a fat, froggy face and straight blond hair; and Jeor, inclined to plumpness, with a face beset upon by pimples and the scraggly black beginnings of a beard.

For a shadow of a moment, Anna was apprehensive about approaching the well. The four older boys were all throwing rocks down the well, jeering occasionally, and talking amonst themselves. It was considered an ill thing to throw dirty rocks into the well, for the sake of polluting the water, and yet here Brendan was, throwing small stones down the well with complete impunity. Tak, tak, tak, tak, plish, the rocks fell, one after the other, bouncing off the walls of the well as they plummeted down, the sound of their descent echoing up and down the stone edifice.

The fear ebbed as Anna thought about it. Brendan’s afraid of you, remember? she reminded herself. No need to go get Astrid, don’t even think about interrupting Martin’s lesson. Just go to the well and get your water.

She adopted a confident stride and strolled up to the well. Though the boys noticed her, they said nothing. When Brendan saw her, he snorted. He was sitting on the edge of the well, between her and the bucket. Her fingers grasped the handle of the wooden stick still resting on her soldier more tightly, and she walked up to him and fixed him with a contemptuous glare. He returned the gaze with daggers of equal measure.

“Move, please,” she ordered him. “I need to get some water.” She briefly considered adding “for Astrid,” but convinced herself it was unnecessary.

Brendan’s thin dark eyebrows rose, and the fury in his eyes stirred like a low-burning fire touched with dry kindling. “Excuse me?” he said softly.

“I said, move, please,” repeated Anna. “I need to get some water.” She tightened and relaxed her grip on her practicing stick, reassuring herself that it was there.

Brendan swung his legs over the side of the well, planting his booted feet on the grassy ground softly. He leaned on the well side with both hands resting now on the well’s stone wall. “Tell me what exactly makes you think you can talk to me like that,” he said coolly.

Sheer panic settled in. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. “Astrid,” she blurted, and when she saw his brows knit in anger, hastily added, “For Astrid, I mean; the water.”

“I’m not afraid of Astrid,” he growled, and jumped upright. He advanced on her. “What makes you think-”

Judgment deserted her, as well as all thoughts except “get away.” She noticed the three other boys moving on her. Quick as she could, she twisted her hand and struck one of them in the face with the end of the wooden stick. She heard a smack, and a howl of pain, and just as quickly she felt meaty hands grab both her arms and shoulders. She struggled but Brendan grabbed her right hand and pried the wooden stick from her fingers.

When she stopped struggling, tired and panting and hurting from the tightening grips of the hands on her, she took in the surroundings. Brendan was holding her practicing stick in his hand, and one of the boys – the fat one, Jeor – was cupping his nose with both hands. “I thi’g ib broken!” he sobbed.

Brendan snarled at him. “It’s not broken. She didn’t even draw blood.” Jeor drew away his hands and she saw a good deal of blood trickling down from the nostrils. Brendan glowered at the wound, and then at Anna.

“What the hell gives you the right?” he said coldly to her, “to come on my hill, in my town, and demand to use _my well?_ You’re thirsty? Is that it?” He motioned to the two boys grabbing her arms and shoulders, and they pushed her bodily towards the edge of the well. Brendan grabbed the neck of her tunic and thrust her head over the side, so that she was staring down into the gloom of the well. Deep, she thought.

“I can give you a drink,” Brendan promised. Anna struggled against her captors, kicking her legs and trying to move her arms, but to no avail. Brendan kept talking in a manic voice. “That’s what good lords do, isn’t it? Make sure their subjects have plenty to drink? I can make sure you don’t run out of any drinking water for a good long time to come, if that’s what you want.”

“Hey, stop!” cried out the squeakiest voice Anna had ever heard. Oh no, she thought. The boys relaxed their grips and they all whirled around to see the source of the voice. Anna craned her head under the crook of her arm to see…

Martin, standing a few yards away, yew bow drawn and arrow nocked. His hands were remarkably steady, and the arrow was aimed just out of sight – directly at Brendan, if Anna had to guess.

“Martin,” said Brendan singsongingly. “What are you doing with that toy? That coward’s weapon?”

Brendan reddened visibly, but his poise remained tense. “Stop,” he repeated. “Let her go.”

“Or what?” hissed Brendan. “You’ll shoot me? You’ll shoot _me?_ ” Brendan sounded almost incredulous.

Slowly, to Anna’s amazement, the timid little boy nodded a silent “Yes.”

Brendan released his grip on Anna’s tunic. “Let her go,” he ordered the boys, and they followed suit. Anna sank to the ground.

“Now drop the s-stick,” said Martin, his stutter betraying him for half-a-second.

Anna looked up at Brendan’s face and noticed an amused smile. “S-sure,” he mocked, and threw the stick down on the ground hard. It bounced harmlessly off the grass. “S-say ‘h-hi’ to y-your d-dad f-for m-me.” He stomped off, his dazed and bloodied friends trailing behind him, glaring all of them between Anna, who still sat kneeling on the ground; and Martin, who looked more frightened than Anna ever saw him look before.

It might have been nothing to what Anna was feeling, though. She was shaking. The well was deep. Before she had known what happened, everything was out of her control. What had gone wrong?

Martin ran up to her, seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then went to the well, hastily drawing up a bucket of water. He poured some water into a clay cup and handed it to Anna.

Wordlessly, she accepted the gift and drank the water. “Thanks,” she managed to croak at last. “You… didn’t have to do that. I owe you one.”

Martin laughed mirthlessly. Anna looked up in surprise. She had never heard Martin laugh before, much less see him smile. “I w-was repaying a debt,” he said with a strange, weak smile. “Come on,” he urged. “W-we better go s-see Astrid.”

But Anna didn’t move. She looked at the yew bow slung over his shoulder, and the untaut string haphazardly looped around the edges. “That bow is poorly strung,” she observed. “You probably couldn’t have stuck him with an arrow if you tried. You strung it yourself, today?”

Martin bit his lower lip, and nodded quickly. “J-just practicing,” he said.

Anna looked at him warily. “Doesn’t your father disapprove of your talent?” she said with an unintentional edge in her voice. Martin’s silence was all the answer she needed. She tried to soften her tone. “That was brave of you,” she said, unsure even if she was referring to his risking his father’s ire or threatening Brendan.

“I’m not brave,” said Martin. “I’m- I was afraid.”

She stood up, and then knelt back down to pick up her stick. “Let’s go see Astrid,” she said, and the two of them went to Astrid’s cabin.

When Anna regaled Astrid with a short account of what just happened, her face was still. They were all seated in the chairs situated around Astrid’s hearth, which smoldered with lightly burning coals. She first turned to regard Martin.

“Brave of you, Martin, if a little foolish. It is an ill thing to threaten your liege lord. It’s a good thing Brendan is more cowardly than cruel, and will balk at telling his father.”

“I’m not brave,” said Martin again, and realizing he was contradicting his elder and teacher, added “I mean, er, if it please you, ma’am-”

“It does not please me,” she said, waving him to silence. “It was brave.”

“But I was afraid,” Martin insisted.

She smiled at him. “That only proves my point,” she said. Martin gave her a puzzled look in return. “Go out back and practice stringing bows, Martin. I must have a word with Anna in private.”

When Martin was gone, Astrid’s impassive demeanor changed suddenly to one of cold disappointment. She stared at Anna for several long, silent, uncomfortable moments, before finally saying “You know, it’s not meant as an endearment when I say that you have a habit for making bad decisions.”

Anna’s temper flared. “He was – I was only trying to get some water.”

“I know what you were trying to do,” said Astrid sharply. “Gods, Anna, why would you provoke Brendan like that?”

Anna was reminded of the time that the Wise Troll reprimanded her for scaring a bear. But that was a good thing she did, wasn’t it?

Her teacher kept talking. “Clearly I’ve given you a false impression of your own skill if you think you can disable four older boys with no more than a wooden stick at your age.

“But more than that, Anna, I’ve failed you because, for some reason, you think it’s appropriate to start a fight with someone for no other reason than because you want to. Is that right, Anna? Did you think he feared you? Did you want to prove it?”

Anna said nothing. A tidal wave of shame washed over her, and drowned her anger. She felt wet, limp, and defeated. And very foolish. She stared down at her lap and closed her eyes tight.

“I thought he was afraid of me,” she confirmed.

When Astrid spoke again, her tone was no less hard, but it was kinder somehow. “It may be that he was,” she said. “Because you stood up to him before. But you went out of your way to challenge him in front of his friends. Anna, a cornered animal will fight. Believe it.” Astrid chuckled. “He doesn’t fear you anymore, that’s for sure. But at least maybe he will think twice about pushing Martin around.”

“Martin said that he was probably afraid of you.” Anna turned her head up to look at Astrid. “Brendan. He said that Brendan was afraid of you.”

Astrid frowned at that. “Could be,” she said thoughtfully.

“Why?” Anna asked, remembering what Kristoff had said about the whole thing. “Aren’t you one of his subjects? Won’t he inherit his lord father’s position one day? Why should he be afraid of you?”

Astrid said nothing and turned her head to stare at the burning coals in the small cookfire hearth. Those coals never went out, because she used the fire for cooking. It had to always be ready to cook something.

“I used to think I could teach him,” she said after what felt like an eternity. “His father always resented me for that. I’m so sure that’s why Brendan started being more careful about where I was before he would… I really did try to teach him. But I didn’t know how.”

Suddenly Anna remembered something. “You slapped him,” said Anna, her tone almost accusatory. “How could you… get away with that? Why wouldn’t the Lord Mayor punish you for that?” Her heart caught in her throat. “Astrid, why are you Lord Edward’s sworn warrior?”

“Because,” Astrid said, looking Anna in the eyes once again, “I know one of his secrets.”

Anna’s mouth was dry. “What secret?”

Her teacher sighed heavily, leaning forward in her chair, her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. She slowly removed her hands from her face and turned her eyes to the glowing coals. She fixed her gaze there, her pale blue eyes reflecting the orange light of the embers, and began to speak, in a low, careful voice. “When I was a child, I lived on an island called Berk,” she said. “A rocky island, far east of here. It used to be a roost of dragons. I was named for a princess of that island who went by the name ‘Dragon-Tamer.’

“My brother and I often visited Arendelle when we were young. We loved Berk, but there’s something special about Arendelle. We couldn’t keep away.” She smiled wistfully at the memory. “One day, in the city, my brother met the son of an upland trader, and, well… he was smitten. We concocted some pretext to visit his hometown, and that’s where I met Lord Edward.

“He wasn’t Lord Mayor, yet. He was… well, Edward. I remember when I first saw him, he was trying to fight with a longsword. In the back of that ridiculous little hill he lived on. His ‘teacher’ was trying to teach him to fight with a low-guard. I never had good sense as a young woman. So I mocked him and the teacher said ‘You think you can do better?’” Astrid huffed loudly out her nose. “Well, I did, and the bruised old man tried to lecture me about respecting my superiors. But Edward thought it was the greatest thing he’d ever seen. He laughed, I remember. ‘You’re done,’ he told the old man, and he bid me replace him.”

Astrid stopped talking for a second. “I still think about that. How I was wrong. How could I be wrong? Gods, the way he laughed. The way he grew his hair too long, and it fell in his eyes, and he kept having to brush it back. The way he smiled. We had fun, but I…” She shifted her gaze to the floor. “Then my brother and my father had a fight. My father said that it was improper to court a lowborn, that my brother had a duty to the isle of Berk first and foremost. I guess I also felt like I couldn’t stay there. So we ran away.

“At length, we… I became with child.” Astrid’s voice was a little unsteady now. “And when I told Edward, everything changed. He sent me away. He said sweet words to try to soften the blow, but still he sent me away. I couldn’t go back to Berk, so I lived in the city. I had the child. Some Godswives from the monastery helped me. They called me wicked, for siring a bastard. But they helped me all the same.

“The child was beautiful. And as he grew, he was the spitting image of his father. I took him back to town. I had to show his father. He was Lord Edward, now. His father died fighting in the Weselton war. At first, I thought Edward might have been happy to see me. But he wasn’t happy to see his son. He threatened to have me banished… so I threatened to tell all. No one who looked at his son would doubt it even for a second. Especially since it’s a small town, and everyone knew that we were close.” She chuckled unhappily. “So he adopted him. Pretended he was a nephew or some distant relation.”

When Astrid was finished, she looked back at the coals. Anna’s heart was pounding. The whole thing seemed unreal. Impossible. This was not the Astrid she knew. Her and the Lord Mayor? Anna’s stomach turned.

“So that’s why you became his sworn warrior,” Anna stated against the raging tide of emotion swirling in her gut. “So you could stay close to your son.”

Astrid looked at Anna wanly. “It doesn’t seem to have worked out, does it?” She waved a hand in that dismissive way she often did. “There were other reasons, too. Like you, I was impulsive, running away, living on my own, coming back, and… sometimes I just didn’t like having to make difficult decisions. I always felt like I messed something up. The thing about being a knight is that all of the most important decisions are taken out of your hands. But some vows, some things… are still more important than others. So on the day I swore myself to Lord Edward’s service, I tied my hair into two braids: one for each person I would vow always to protect.”

“Your son… and Anders?” asked Anna.

Astrid shook her head and gave Anna a sad smile. “My son and Lord Edward.”

There were tears in Astrid’s eyes now, and they menaced to roll down her cheeks. Anna couldn’t bear to see her teacher, the person she admired most of all, brought so low. And she felt absurdly guilty, guilty for her pride, guilty for hating Brendan. She realized how little she really knew. She jumped out of her chair and ran at Astrid, throwing her arms around her teacher in a warm, tight embrace.

She thought of snowmen and, for the first time in years, of Joan of Arc.

That evening, as the sun dipped below the western horizon yawnily, Anna curled up in her mossroll, head buzzing with thoughts that denied her any peace. She looked at _The Life and Times of Jeanne d’Arc_ , which Astrid had lent to her again. She had seemed almost surprised when Anna asked about it, but handed it over just the same.

She had done some reading in the time since then. Different books, mostly belonging to Oaken. Thick and thin books, almost all of them about fantastic tales and stories. She loved them. Anders had tried giving her a musty old tome entitled _The Rise and Fall of the Helvetian Empire_ , but it was terribly boring, and it bored Anna terribly. Anders was annoyed to hear that, but Kristoff simply quipped that he was glad he couldn’t read, in that case.

Anna was much better at reading now. She leafed through the pages of the short, thin book, until she got to the place she remembered she had stopped reading, three years ago.

  
  


Thus came the trial, and the queen said, “Jeanne d’Arc, you stand accused of doing the work of the light. How do you plead?”

And Joan could only say, “Guilty. I have served the light, and Lutetia, all my life.”

To which the queen responded, “I hereby sentence you to death.” And at dusk that day, Joan of Arc was tied to a stake, and burnt alive for the crime of heresy.

News of Joan’s death went across the lands of both Lotharia and Lutetia, and all heard that the Maid of Orléans had been put to death. All across Lutetia she was mourned, and none mourned her so much as the king of Lutetia himself.

But news came late to the king. He had already moved north, and found the Albionese army completely by surprise. As the light had promised Joan, he won a glorious victory, routing the Albionese forces and capturing the Mad King himself. The war was won, his army cheered! Victory for Lutetia! Vive la Lutéce!

However, word came to the king that the Maid of Orléans had been captured and burnt at the stake, and he fell to his knees and cried out in misery: “O, woe is me! For I have won the kingdom, but lost its heart and soul! May darkness take me, for I have done a wicked thing.”

He held a vigil for seven days and seven nights, and at the end, the light spoke to him, and said, “You are the king of Lutetia, now do right! The light commands you.” Thus, when his mourning was finished, he moved against those who had counseled the Maid of Orléans’ doom. He banished them all to Lotharia, except for Chancellor Frollo, whom he interred in the darkest, deepest dungeons of his castle. And he decreed, henceforth, that the longest day of the year would be Joan of Arc Day, to celebrate the gift of light and day, which all Lutetians could be assured of thanks to the brave efforts of the Maid of Orléans.

  
  


Anna closed the book gently, her mind astir. That’s one way of putting it, she thought. She wondered how the queen of Lotharia felt. She wondered whether the king of Lutetia really mourned the Maid of Orléans. She wondered if the Lotharians had a holiday for the shortest day of the year. Maybe they called it Joan of Arc Day, too.

She set the book aside and laid her head down, and let the warmth of the mossroll wash over her. It was snowing lightly, but the trollish mossroll repelled all the elements, and kept her nice and toasty. She remembered, vaguely, something Anders had once said about Joan of Arc, after Anna had told him how disappointed she was that she died.

“The book is rather romantic,” he said. “Joan went east because of the good it does for Lutetia. But it was actually a mistake, you know. An honest mistake. And she wasn’t burnt at the stake directly. She was offered for ransom. And the king of Lutetia wouldn’t pay it. One thing that’s true no matter how you put it, she had more value to either side as a martyr than a hero.”

That hadn’t made Anna feel better at the time, but now it gave her a strange sense of peace. Which way would I have gone? She thought to herself. North or east? If I had a choice? She went to sleep thinking of Astrid’s braided hair, and dreamt of snowmen in summertime.

 


	7. The Rolling Stone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all. I don't normally use author's notes, but I just wanted to express my appreciation for those of you who are reading this silly little story. It's going to be a long one, but I plan to see it through to the end. Also, some of you have left comments and reviews. If I haven't replied to yours, rest assured it's not because I haven't seen it – I just don't really know what to say.
> 
> This particular chapter is a tad longer than the previous chapters, but I had fun writing it. I hope you have fun reading it, too.

 

The trolls had a general habit of making much ado about nothing when they could get away with it, which was all the time. When it came to something worth making ado about, then, they went positively crazy. In this particular instance, it was the matter of Anna’s 15th birthday.

It was the warm of summer, and the troll cairn was alive day and night in the week leading up to Anna’s birthday. Everywhere she looked, trolls were hard at work with the preparations: weaving festive skirts, carving signs, setting up pavilions and games, preparing food, singing – it was considered ill luck to do work without somebody singing in close proximity – and in general tripping over each other and themselves even more than was usual.

Anna was wearing a long, woolen green tunic over a white undertunic and thick white leggings, and two high boots of brown stained leather. She wore her coppery embrous hair pulled back and tamed with a leaf green hairtie, and buckled to her belt on her left hip was the wooden practicing stick she’d used since she was ten. She was also quite bored, for although she had insisted the trolls let her help, they would have none of it. One does not prepare for their own coming-of-age party, they said. It simply isn’t done. That’s all well and good, thought Anna, but in the meantime, what am I to do?

At the moment, she was sitting on a tree stump and listening to three idle trolls argue loudly about what profession Anna would choose when she came of-age. For the benefit of her company, they had posed the question as a friendly discussion on the merits and drawbacks of all the different troll specializations, so that she might make a decision in good knowledge; although in truth it was not a discussion so much as an unfollowable shouting match.

“Nope nope nope,” bulled Braffly, raising his voice to speak over Rain and Loot. “She’s gonna be a watchman, like me. She’ll be the best watchman ever. She’s a bear-scarer, you know.”

“I know she’s a bear-scarer,” snorted Loot. “I was the one who _inspired_ her to scare bears, remember? That’s why she’s going to be a hunter.”

“You’re both so stupid,” snapped Rain. “Those jobs are for meatheads. Anna’s got so much cunning, she’ll be a better Wise Troll.”

“Guh?” said Braffly, confused. “What about the Wise Troll?”

“What about him?”

“What’ll he do?”

“He can be a Wise Troll, too.”

“Now who’s stupid?” said Loot. “You can’t have _two_ Wise Trolls.”

“Why not?” said Rain.

“Because you just can’t,” said Loot testily and he stomped his foot.

Rain made to object, but Anna interrupted. “I think Loot’s got the right of it, Rain,” she said, her voice clear, but not loud, and curved by a slight laugh. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t make a very good Wise Troll.”

Rain crossed her trollish arms and grunted, and Loot gave a superior smile. “Hunter it is!” he declared, and that began a whole new round of arguing.

Anna smiled fondly at them. In truth, she wasn’t really excited about any of the career options they were championing. As a matter of fact, most of the troll village careers failed to excite any real passion in her – except one. She was long past the point of worrying about it, since she’d made up her mind privately, and only hoped that not too many of her beloved family would be crushed by her decision.

Time was, the trolls were everything to her. They were her family, and she did really believe that. But in recent years her heart had grown heavy with the prospect of an entire life spent at the troll cairn. Every time she caught a glimpse, from high trees or hill-crests, of the Far-Offs, the Up-And-Downs, the Springway, the North Mountain, the distant mists and fogs that might as well have been World’s End; when she saw these things, there was nothing in her that didn’t want to get out there. Somehow, the wide, unseeable world made her feel alone. She wasn’t alone, she knew, not really – not among her friends and family, not among Astrid and Kristoff and the rest. But she felt something was missing, that a part of her was cut out. The dreams were another thing, the dreams that went back a way, the dreams that seemed stitched in, an afterthought, patching on a quilt. They were inscrutable to her, and made her restless – such that she didn’t sleep so much anymore. Then on, many a sleepless day or night went by where she lay awake and watched the slow pink clouds with their lazy orange sheets, or the twinkling stars in their ticklesome vigil; her constant, restive companions, they the wind and sky.

Loot had told her about his adventures going to the far parts of the woods. He had seen the ice fields, the foot of the North Mountain, the barrowings. He’d seen every corner of the forest, except for that north of the Mud River – because it would be “madness” to go so far. “The Mud River is wide as it is long,” he said nonsensically. “And on the other side is the Gobwoods, where the goblins live.”

“You’re not afraid of goblins, are you?” she asked.

“No, of course not,” he blustered. “But, they’re tricky, goblins are. They can’t take you in a standing fight, so they have all kinds of traps and gadgets, whizmos and contraptions. The sly folk, we call ‘em.”

Anna knew what the trolls called the goblins, and also what they thought of them, and indeed how very negative those thoughts were. “Those ufgoody goblins” was a common turn-of-phrase for whenever something went wrong. She wasn’t clear on the history there, only that trolls seemed to mistrust the goblins fiercely. She had half a mind to visit the Gobwoods and see for herself, but she knew to voice such an intention would be to invite a torrent of “oh no, don’t bother”’s, voiced in every pitch and tone available to the trollish timbre.

When she had decided she’d heard enough of the trolls’ debate, she excused herself and took her leave. The bustle of the troll cairn was dying down in the emerging light of morning, and she had a mind to visit the town that day. Burrowstown was its proper name, and the men and women of House Burrows had mayored the modest little hamlet since time immemorial. Or at least since the Ice Queen united Arendelle under her icy fist.

She left the troll cairn and went to the stream where the berry bushes bustled, kneeling before the running water and cupping some in her hands. She threw the water in her face, and let the errant droplets roll down her cheeks and nose before undoing her green hairtie and washing her face and hair in the river. When she was finished, she pulled her hair back and tied it up again. She had taken to doing this since Astrid had mentioned that controlled hair didn’t restrict the vision or confound head movements as much as hair allowed to be wild. Short hair too, but Anna was less fond of that option.

She had considered braiding her hair in the style of Astrid, in two pigtails, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Astrid tied her braids in honor of those she had promised to always protect. Anna had no such persons, so instead, she wrapped her hair up in a tight bun.

Standing up again, she patted the hilt of her practicing stick. It had been about a year since she had used it in training; she only kept it with her because it was better than nothing – and it was hers, at Astrid’s insistence many years ago. Lately she had been training with a dull-edged iron blade, of a length with the stick but much heavier, which Astrid secured through her connections with Oaken.

“A kind they use for practicing, and in some tourneys,” said Astrid.

“Tourneys?” Anna had questioned, waving the sword around, getting a feel for its weight and balance. “Isn’t it true that it’s anything-goes in most tourneys?”

“That is true, but some lords are more squeamish than others, and prefer not to have any bloodshed among the competitors. There’s always risk, anyway. Like when the current Lord Protector, Erik Ulfton, hacked an opponent’s head off with a dull tourney blade.”

“I heard about that,” said Anna with mild disgust. “Anders said that he did it in one clean sweep. Actually. That was unsporting of him, wasn’t it?”

“Some say,” agreed Astrid. “But the opponent in question was Ser Jarl of Eastgreen, who declared for the Duke of Weselton the moment his armies crossed into the county.”

“Ah,” laughed Anna. “Stiff justice, then.”

“Ser Jarl had been pardoned by His Majesty the King, but the Lord Protector reckoned that too merciful by half. ‘His Grace should have subtracted his head, so I did it for him.’”

Anna decided that the Lord Protector seemed like a loyal sort of man, if a bit ruthless, if half the stories were to be believed. Once a serving boy had poured the king some wine, and when the king coughed after sipping it, the Lord Protector immediately demanded the boy’s head be removed, and moved to do it himself. When the king regained his breath and said “No, please, it was merely a spiced wine from Euzaro! It took me unawares,” all the guests laughed about it, except for the serving boy, who never poured wine again; and the embarrassed Lord Protector, who grunted that he was “just being sure.” And from that day forward, the story goes, the Lord Protector appointed three separate food-tasters for the king, and he only trusted himself to serve wine. Kristoff said that story made the Lord Protector out to be cracked, but Anna said there was a difference between lunacy and doing your duty.

“Is there, though?” Anders had mused.

When Anna reached the crossing, she turned in the direction of the town and continued on her own way. It had been some time since she last waited for Kristoff, let alone rode in the toboggan, and anyway there was something peacefully serene about walking through the forest in the morning light.

She was almost 15, truly, and in troll society that made her an adult. By the standards of Arendelle law, she still had a year to go after that, until she was officially at the age of majority. Not that it would mean much for her – she was the heiress to no titles, lands, or property, and so it didn’t really matter if she was 15 or 16 as far as the laws of Arendelle were concerned. But among the trolls, 15 meant she chose her profession and received a special gift commemorating her adulthood. She had no idea what the gift was going to be, what it could _possibly_ be. The trolls didn’t stake an awful lot in personal property, and as such more than token trinkets or general amenities were very rare.

Anna let her mind dwell on gifts as she walked into town, intent on paying Anders a visit before continuing on to Astrid’s house. If she was lucky, Oaken would be at the cabin today. He had announced that he was going to sell the cabin in town, and move all the earthly belongings of him and his husband Anders to the foot of the North Mountain – an announcement that Anders tolerated with a thin-lipped veneer of approval.

Anders was indeed home and, to her surprise, so was Oaken. They were discussing loudly about something in the front of their cabin when Anna strode up, and they both fell into sudden silence, regarding her with a curt nod from Anders and an abashed frown from Oaken.

“Good morning, Anna” said Anders. “Hoo-hoo,” said Oaken. Anna nodded back to them.

“What news today?” she asked. When nobody spoke, she said again, “Is something the matter? I thought I heard raised voices.”

“No, erm,” said Oaken, a giant hand scratching the back of his neck. He had grown a fantastic mustache, which connected a peculiar beard that was thin on the chin and wide on the sides. “Nothing is wrong, _ja,_ Anders and I are merely having a conversation.”

“Indeed,” confirmed Anders mysteriously.

Anna didn’t know what to make of this, and didn’t feel like guessing, so she changed the subject. “Has Kristoff come by today?” They shook their heads, but then she heard the pattering of reindeer-hooves. “Hoo-hoo, here he comes now,” said Oaken, and Kristoff appeared, riding a big dark brown moose with the woolliest mane and the friendliest muzzle.

If Kristoff and Anna had grown over the years, the same could be said ten times for Sven, now a titan of an animal. Kristoff was tall, now, taller than Anna for sure, broad in the shoulders and strong in the chest. His hair was still an uncomely mat of dirty straw, and his nose was still a touch big, but more importantly he still had his kindly and expressive face. He wore stained and faded breeches and a studded leather jerkin over a ratty blue tunic, and he wore a blue fur cap over his straw-colored hair. It was summer, which made the fur cap an odd choice, but Kristoff didn’t seem to mind the heat, and anyway it was always unseasonably cold near the ice fields, no matter what the weather was elsewhere.

“Hey, feisty-pants!” he greeted Anna. A ridiculous nickname, but one she could not disabuse him of, since “wild girl” stopped being as appropriate, and Kristoff thought it terribly amusing that Anna hardly ever wore skirts or dresses anymore. Sven whickered.

“Hey, numbskull,” she replied with a defiant crossing of her arms. She was proud of that one. Numb skull, because he liked ice so much that his head was probably full of snow. The nickname had not half the effect on him as his had on her. He considered it with a point of pride, actually. “If my head is full of snow, it’d explain a lot,” was his usual reply.

He laughed in response and turned to Oaken. “I dropped the ice and sled off at the Post.”

“Kristoff,” bristled Oaken, “What is the full name of my North Mountain trading post?”

Kristoff sighed melodramatically. “The Haunted Trading Post. I dropped the ice and sled off at the Haunted Mountain Trading Ghost.”

Anna laughed at the unexpected play on words, and even Anders chuckled lightly, the shadow of his previous demeanor flitting away for a short moment. Oaken scowled at them all and pouted his lips sulkily.

“You came upon them at a bad time, I think,” said Anna to Kristoff. “I believe they were fighting.”

“Really?” said Kristoff, his brow knitted in concern. “Not about the Ghost Post?”

“No,” said Anders quickly. “Not fighting, and not about that.” Oaken reddened and nodded in agreement.

“Then what?” said Anna, and before any more could be said, a loud noise echoed through the valley. Beeeoooooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrr, it sounded, at first faint but growing louder as it neared.

“What was that?” asked Anna as the sound faded, and then the the horn sounded again, beeeoooooorrrrrrrrrr, and it was much closer now. Oaken and Anders now put on worried looks, and they all looked around for the source of the noise.

A horseman in a leather half-helm and dark gray cloak came galloping up the road, his face red, a horn of carved bone swinging from his neck as his black mare’s hooves pounded the sparse pebbling of the road. When he passed by Oaken’s cabin, he reared and slowed to a trot. From some of the nearby houses, people had come out to see what the commotion was about.

“Hear ye, hear ye!” he cried, so that all in the vicinity could hear. “The king and queen are dead!”

“What?” said Anna and Kristoff in almost perfect unison. Oaken’s jaw dropped. Anders hailed the man: “Good rider, how came you by this news?”

“Oh, ‘tis terrible!” moaned the rider. “’Twere in the city this past weekend, aye, and the king and queen put to sea with a mind on visiting their cousins in Corona. But the ocean is cruel, and a storm sank their ship with all hands, yes it did!”

“By the gods,” breathed Anders.

“What about the princess?” another onlooker called.

“She is safe, thank the gods,” said the rider. “She were in the city, yes she was, in the royal castle. The line of Arendelle continues!” There were murmurs among the onlookers as they repeated the old refrain. “But aye, ‘twas an ill thing, this storm, fer the Lord Protector was with the king and queen also, and surely as drownded now as either of them.”

Anna clapped a hand over her mouth in shock. “The king and queen and Lord Protector, all lost at sea, dead?”

“Aye, ‘tis so,” said the rider mournfully. “The king were a good king, and too young, but the princess shall inherit.”

“Praise the new queen!” someone yelled. Then someone else, “She’s not the queen yet, you fool.”

“When is the coronation?” asked Anders of the rider.

“A fortnight hence,” said the rider. “’Twould have been proper were it a longer time, I think, more time fer grieving, but Ser Tore is insistent the coronation is done soonly.”

“Why?” asked Oaken.

“Ser Tore, you said?” said an onlooker. “Tore the Headsman! Bet he wants not another Weselton attempt on the throne.”

The rider nodded. “Aye, ‘tis so. The good Ser Tore said he couldn’t pull th’ same miracle twice.”

“Aw, a modest man, Ser Tore Seastone.”

“Who’s the new Lord Protector?” asked Kristoff.

“There is none, lad,” said the rider. “The queen shall pick a new Lord Protector when she is coronated, she shall.”

The rider continued through the town, yelling for all to hear of the deaths of the king and queen. Anna was speechless and deeply troubled.

“Gods,” said Kristoff. “I always thought if that lunatic Lord Protector was with them, they should expect to live to their nineties.”

“He isn’t a lunatic,” said Anna crossly. _Wasn’t_ , she corrected herself.

“He did his job as well as he could, _ja_ ,” said Oaken sadly. “But how do you protect your charge against the gods themselves?”

They stood in silence for a little while, and Anna suspected each of them were mourning inwardly. She still remembered when she saw the Royal Family pass through town, how wonderful they looked. And the princess. Anna’s heart skipped a beat. That nervous girl. Now she was a woman grown, but still, the king and queen were all the family she had in the world, and now they were gone. Anna imagined for a second how she would feel if all the trolls and Astrid and Kristoff vanished suddenly, and she felt her eyes mist. Her heart went out to the princess. I hope you have a long, happy reign, Princess Elsa. And not a lonely one.

When a time had passed, Kristoff had dismounted Sven and put him up with some water, and they were sitting around on the porch of Oaken’s soon-to-be-sold cabin. They had moved on to other topics of conversation, and while occasionally cutting back to the troublesome subject, Anna found herself thinking of the Lord Protector, and other affairs of state. “Anders, how is the Lord Protector picked?” she asked.

“It is an appointed office,” he said. “Traditionally held for life, and traditionally a title only held by the best of the best. Lord Protectors can rarely be bested in single combat.”

“But they don’t always win tournaments,” said Anna.

Anders bowed his head. “That’s true. It’s really more the idea that counts. The Lord Protector is also Captain of the Guard, since Marth the Certain implored Queen Bryn to unite the two jobs.”

“The Royal Guardsmen? That makes sense. What if the Captain of the Guard wanted to do the Royal Family harm?”

“What if the Lord Protector did, too?” said Anders sharply.

This time Anna was ready. “But no Lord Protector ever has, have they? Betrayed their liege.”

For once, Anders was speechless. “Yes,” he admitted, after a momentary pause. “But still, it could happen.”

“But it hasn’t,” Anna pressed triumphantly. “And in fact, Marth the Certain only united the two jobs when he proved the Captain of the Guard was a traitor.”

Oaken boomed with laughter, and even Kristoff was impressed. “If I was appointed Lord Protector, and I had all that prestige and money,” said Kristoff, “I wouldn’t want to hurt the people who gave me that title, I can tell you that much.”

Anna had done a lot of reading on the various famous knights of Arendelle, many of whom served as Lord Protector, out of Oaken and Anders’ library. Lord Protector was a hard job, and largely thankless, and all of the burden of the Royal Family’s security was upon it. But in the many years since King Andrew the Cold, no Lord Protector was ever so ill-chosen as to hurt their liege, or end the line of Arendelle, though they always had the power to do so.

“It’s just good luck,” said Anders stubbornly. “The Royal Family is lucky.” Anna wasn’t sure what kind of good luck sunk your ship beneath a heavy storm, but she left it at that, satisfied she had made her point.

After discussing her birthday plans briefly (Anna was insistent on nothing too lavish, just like every year, but just like every year they always vexed her on this one small request), Anna eventually excused herself from their company to go see Astrid.

Martin was training with bow and arrow, alone, in Astrid’s backyard. He was still a small boy, with a thin figure and small bones, despite his father’s prolonged insistence that he eat more meat.

“Well met, Martin,” she called to him, and he was startled and lost his concentration, unknocking his arrow and whirling his head towards her.

“Oh. Anna. Hello.” He blushed.

“Have you seen Astrid?” she asked, perhaps unnecessarily – but she found that asking the boy easy questions was a good way to move him towards other objects of conversation, lest he become paralyzed in an intense study of the ground and feet.

“Yes, ser. I mean, ma’am. She’s in her house.” Just as I thought, thought Anna. Still, it was a good excuse to see Martin hard at work. Despite his extended troubles with Brendan in the past, the lordling no longer even talked to Martin. That’s probably due to a mixture of things. One, he now reckons Martin as dangerous. Two, Brendan’s a man grown, at 18, so _surely_ he’s moved past that now. And three, his Lord Father was still alive, and still unlikely to protect him from Astrid’s wrath.

For a split second, Anna’s stomach roiled. She didn’t like thinking about that.

She left the boy to his archery – he was absurdly good now, but nobody in the town knew it except for her and Astrid, and Kristoff couldn’t be made to believe. “If he’s that good, prove it,” and she tried to get Martin to show off for Kristoff, but the boy just stood there, stammering, head locked in a floor-inspecting position. “You were spearing apples down the stem at a hundred yards,” she told Martin later that day, disappointed. He said nothing, and speared an apple down the stem at a hundred yards.

Sure enough, Astrid answered the door and invited Anna in with a kind smile. She fixed them a pot of tea and, over the rim of her wooden cup, asked Anna, “So, have you given any thought as to what you want for your birthday?”

Anna ignored the question. “Did you hear the news?”

Astrid mumbled something that might have been “Yes.” Her teacher was still as imposing as the day Anna met her, with powerful, wide shoulders and strong arms, her round face with its long nose framed by two thick golden locks of braided hair. And her eyes – deep, sad orbs of blue.

“Bad luck,” said Astrid. “Both the king and the queen.”

“And the Lord Protector,” Anna inserted.

“At least the princess still lives.”

“She must be feeling quite lonely and sad,” said Anna wanly.

“I should expect,” said Astrid, and she sipped her tea.

They sat in the warm silence of the late morning, Astrid’s cook fire smoldering and casting its smoky lights around the room. They mixed with the beams of the morning sun, and all the cabin was heavy oranges and trickly yellows.

Still standing out among all things in Astrid’s quaint little cottage was its most precious adornment. Perched above the mantle of Astrid’s fireplace was the short arming sword with the polished redwood hilt and the glittery red gem in the pommel. Astrid’s favorite sword, Anna remembered, and beautiful to look at. It seemed untouched by the dust of years, its folded steel blade looking almost gilded in the sunlight. It was calliopic in its colors, a mixture of autumnal browns and summery golds and dusky reds.

Astrid had told Anna a little about the sword, once, after Anna had started using a dull tourney blade and found herself curious about proper swords. “That knight sword was my first sword,” said Astrid. “A gift from my mother.”

“Was your mother a fighter, too?”

“Yes she was,” said Astrid. “Life on Berk is not as it is in Arendelle. On Berk, all women are trained as warriors, just as the men are.”

“All people on Berk are warriors?” said Anna, incredulous.

“Yes they are,” said Astrid with a smirk. “We had to be, since the days the dragons roamed. Berk is rocky, cold, and lifeless, and dragons often stole away our sheep in the old days. So we all had to fight. A better attitude than you have in Arendelle, I think.”

Anna frowned, her pride wounded despite never really feeling any particular attachment to the so-called “Kingdom of Arendelle.” “In Arendelle, men and women inherit equally,” said Anna. “Anders said so. It is different from Corona, and the Southern Isles, and the Svithron states, and all that.”

“That is so,” admitted Astrid. “But women are rarely ever knights, and rarely ever chosen to fill high offices, are they, Anna?”

Anna supposed that much was true. “On Berk there are no such delusions,” said Astrid. “In the old days, you were either dragon-killer, or dragon-food. At least, until the Dragon-Tamer came. But even then, you were either dragon-tamer, or dragon-food.” She laughed with a snort.

Anna smiled at the memory, and Astrid caught her staring at the sword while she was lost in thought. “Do you want to know what I named it?” she asked.

“What?” said Anna, blinking her way back to the real world.

“Do you want to know what I named that sword?”

“Oh, you named it?”

“I did,” said Astrid. “When I ran away from Berk.”

“Well, what did you call it?”

“Summer,” said Astrid simply, and sipped her tea.

Anna had never known Astrid to attach much sentimentality to names of swords or shields or anything like that. She called it a frivolous distraction, especially for weapons that were undistinguished. “Many a sorry knight names his sword for only the reason of naming his sword,” she had said. “Names like ‘Giantslayer’ and ‘Dragoncutter,’ tedious things like that, when for all they ended up doing with the sword they might have called it ‘Nail-Cleaner.’ It is ill-luck, and pathetic besides.”

Summer was not a name Anna would have picked for the sword, and definitely not a name she’d expect Astrid to pick for… well, anything, really. “Why did you choose that name?” she asked.

Astrid shrugged. “I liked it.”

“Doesn’t sound like a name you’d pick.”

Astrid smiled mischievously. “Would you have expected ‘Winter?’”

“No,” said Anna. “Just… not Summer.”

When they trained that day, with banded iron shield in one hand and tourney blade in the other, Anna traded blows, stabs, and swipes with her teacher, and without even realizing it, found that she had her teacher on the defensive. She observed this with mild surprise, unsure where exactly she had gone right. She was living in the moment, blow-to-blow, acting and reacting as the fight evolved.

A high strike by Astrid met Anna’s shield, and Anna then thrust her right arm forward to jab Astrid in the gut. “Oof,” said Astrid and she stumbled the tiniest bit, and Anna pressed the advantage, hammering Astrid’s shield with blows, pushing her back and back to the edge of the clearing.

“I yield,” said Astrid from behind her shield. They were both out of breath, and the day had grown late.

For a moment, Anna was stupefied. “I won?” she said blankly. The two of them often ended drills and exercises with scrimmages, but Anna never managed to win one before. She sometimes came close, but more often than not she would make just enough of a crucial misstep to surrender to Astrid – either in being weakened by the blows, or in being too tired to continue. The bruises would settle in afterwards.

“Yeah,” said Astrid in a weary voice as she set sword and shield down, peeling off the heavy leather armor that they both used to train with. “You’ve gotten too fast for me, wild girl.”

Once Anna might have been deliriously proud to hear that, but now she was just puzzled. “I barely knew what happened,” she said. “Only that you were attacking one minute, and defending the next.”

“Your defensive posture is quite good,” said Astrid. “I can’t outmaneuever you, and you dodge or parry my most powerful blows nimbly. I suspect you’d be unstoppable on the offense.” Astrid gave Anna a sweaty smile. “Gee, you remind me a little of myself. Of course, at your age I mostly used an axe.”

“You don’t own any axes,” Anna observed.

“Tastes changed. Anyway, that was well done. Very well done indeed.”

Anna bowed in courteous respect. “As you say, but I’m sure it was… I’m sure I was just lucky. Or you were tired.”

When Astrid cracked open in laughter, Anna snapped her head up, face warm. “What?” she demanded, a little perturbed by this sudden outburst.

“Gods, nothing. You’ve just changed so much, wild girl,” said Astrid kindly. “I remember when you first came to town, starting fights with older boys and being terrible at swordsplay. And now, here you are, defeating me in scrims – yet you’re as demure as a proper lady.”

Anna felt herself redden further. “Or as humble as a knight,” she retorted.

“Yes,” said Astrid with a gleam in her eyes. “I hope you make such a good knight you change all of their minds.”

 _That_ did make Anna feel a little proud, and gave her queer butterflies. The rest of that evening, she thought long and hard about being a knight. The best knight in all the land. Noble, chivalrous, charitable, kind, just. And humble, that’s important. Try as she might, she couldn’t convince herself her victory over Astrid wasn’t a fluke.

And let’s be honest, self, she thought, if Astrid really wanted, she could kill you.

It’s only a shame that there’s no “knight” profession among the trolls. Becoming a knight was no easy task: you had to prove your valor. And if Astrid was right about one thing, it was that there were very few opportunities to prove your valor as a woman in the Kingdom of Arendelle.

The day of her 15th birthday rose on sleeping trolls. The festivities were all prepared for that night, and all around the troll cairn the bundles and packages, streamers and banners were waiting in the gusts for the moon to rise and say “Happy birthday, Anna!” There was an excitement to them, those inert bundles, like they could hardly wait. But they would have to wait a little longer, because now was the sun’s time.

Anna woke late in the morning. She allowed herself to sleep in so that she could spend the day in Burrowstown, as Oaken had made it quite clear that she was to report in town that day for her birthday festivities. Two birthday parties, well – she knew she shouldn’t complain, but it really was a lot of fuss over very little, she thought.

She came upon Oaken’s cabin in humble silence and not much sign of life. The sign that had swung over the front door had been removed at Oaken’s behest. No doubt it now adorned Oaken’s Haunted Trading Post. Or perhaps it had been used as kindling, and a new sign took its place. Either way, it was gone now.

She knocked on the front door and was greeted by Oaken in short order. “Hoo-hoo, happy birthday!”

“Thanks,” was all Anna could say. She smiled her most winsomely.

Anders had outdone himself for Anna’s benefit that day, and for supper had prepared roast wild goose flavored with lemons and garlic and stuffed with onions. Savory buttered turnips and fresh-baked bread imbibed with raisins and pickled fishlings garnished with cloves were all in company – the whole affair was so rich-tasting that Anna was shocked, and a little impressed in spite of herself. It was a feat to accomplish for any chef, and though Anders had always possessed a sort of culinary ingenuity, and Oaken had his ways when it came to trading, Anna knew that Anders’ background was not so humble as all that. Perhaps a cache of squirreled-away silver had aided in the preparations. As such, it was a terrific supper, prepared with love, and Anna felt her heart turn to mush at the thoughtfulness of it all.

Most impressive was the dessert, a flaky baked crust of floury bread filled with apple cuttings and syrup, doused with goat cream. They rarely made mention of the chocolate incident, as Kristoff had come to call it, but by unspoken agreement had made sure that Anna never received chocolate as a gift again. They sought out other sweets for her, and though Anna was appreciative, none of them ever compared to the chocolate, now such a memory as to be the subject of many a wistful recollection. The apple crust was still delicious, but it was no chocolate.

They ate and laughed their way through the supper, the four of them, exchanging japes and stories as the fancy came to them. When all was eaten, and they sat lazing, Oaken clapped his hands together and said it was time for Anna to receive her presents.

Usually, Anna received presents of a rather modest or humble nature, and never in addition to a fine meal such as this. But as the supper was also unprecedented, so were the presents. Anders produced a folded goatskin, which Anna unfurled to find was a highly detailed map of the Kingdom of Arendelle. She gawked at it – it was richly colored across all corners, and little trees and mountains dotted the map, interspersed with circles and words and small drawings of towers, houses, and castles. Kristoff was also floored by the look of it, and the two of them hunched over it, admiring the art and trying to find Burrowstown.

As Kristoff could not read, the latter task he left to Anna. “There,” she exclaimed, and pointed to a small dot labelled “Burrowstown.” A line ran through the town north and to the east, through a forest called the “Rockwoods,” in the middle of which was a small illustration of standing rocks, in turn labelled “The Cairn.” The road ran east through the forest until it reached a blue patch simply called “The Ice.”

Further north and to the east of the forest was the North Mountain, lonely amidst the unlabelled surrounding hills. South of that was a long road that passed through fields, hills, forests, and towns – the Springway, Anna knew, the road that connected much of Arendelle.

At the end of the road, situated on the innermost bank of a long thin inlet that let out into a vast ocean beyond, was a thick dot labelled “Crystalwater,” and an illustration of a castle beside that.

“Crystalwater,” Anna read aloud. She looked up at Anders and Oaken. “What’s that?”

“That is the home of the Royal Family,” said Anders. “The capital city of Arendelle, after it was rebuilt by King Heimdal the Torch. And that castle is the Arenborg.”

“Arenborg?” repeated Kristoff.

“Yes. It’s the largest castle in Arendelle, and the seat of the Royal Family. From the Arenborg, they rule the kingdom.”

Anna looked back down at the map. It was full of details and illustrations – she would surely have to delve into it more closely, but later. She folded up the map carefully and thanked Anders graciously. “This is beautiful,” she said. “Where did you get it?”

“Ah, nevermind about that,” he chuckled.

Next came Oaken’s gift. “I thought you might like some headwear to go with your tunic, _ja_ ,” he said. “So, I, well, I sewed this.” And sewed he did: it was a long, green hat of tightly sewn felted-and-dyed leather. Anna gasped when she saw it, and immediately put it on her head. The tail of the hat went down to just below her shoulders, and her ears stuck out over the brims, but it fit snugly and nicely over her head.

“I love it,” she said, and Anders and Oaken smiled at each other.

Just when she thought that had been the end of the gifts, Anders and Oaken began to shift around anxiously, eyeing each other with expectant looks, such as they were privy to a secret jest; Kristoff twiddled his thumbs. They all had an eager, apprehensive look to them.

“Anna,” said Oaken, “Anders and I have been talking about… children. And who will carry on our legacy.”

Anna gave him a puzzled stare, but said nothing.

“We have already discussed this with Kristoff, _ja_ , and he, well, Anders and I have agreed to adopt him, and name him our heir.”

Anna’s eyes widened at the sound of that. “Oh, that’s terrific!” she said, and beamed at Kristoff. Kristoff smiled back.

“There’s more, _ja_ ,” said Oaken with a tremulous smile. “We were wondering if… perhaps… since you are coming of age in the troll society, but not yet in the human society, we thought it might… we thought we might adopt you, as well, if you wish it.”

That was unexpected. Anna was dumbstruck. “Me?” she nearly squeaked. Anders and Oaken both nodded “yes” in slow motion.

“It would grant you more legal privileges and protections,” said Anders pedantically. His tone softened, “And, to tell the truth, Anna, we’ve grown quite fond of you. And since you are an orphan…” his voice trailed off.

Anna still didn’t quite know what to say. It was a kind offer, but… “I have a family,” she said.

“Yes, and we would not want to replace them. We would be your parents.”

Anna sat back in the chair, overwhelmed by the offer. “I’ll have to think about this,” she said, and then she stood up. “Thank you for the gifts and the supper. Really, it is too much for me.” She bowed. “I promised I would see Astrid today, so if you would please excuse me. I promise to have an answer for you this evening.”

They nodded their assent and she was off to Astrid’s again.

As she walked the dusty dirty road to Astrid’s pine-swaddled cabin in the swarthy heat of the late-afternoon sun, the impact of Oaken and Anders’ offer hit her like a mad bull. In truth, they had been everything like parents to her. They had certainly treated her more kindly than Martin’s father treated him. She was glad that Kristoff had been adopted, at least, because she knew he deserved it. He worked tirelessly for them for years, and didn’t even have a home of his own. He’d be an icer now, and they’d live at the foot of the North Mountain… But Anna was not sure if she wanted that kind of life for herself. What would they expect of me, she thought, if I were their adopted daughter? Any differently? Could I still run off and see the world?

Astrid was seeing Martin off by the time Anna came to the door. Martin had slung his bow and a quiver of funny-looking arrows over his back, and passed Anna with a curt, timid nod of acknowledgement.

“How was your lesson?” chirped Anna, not about to let him get away without a word.

“It was good,” said Martin bashfully. Anna noticed that the arrows in Martin’s quiver were all long and made of silvery wood, fletched at the back end with long, blue feathers that waved happily in the light breeze. They looked like a patch of shiny flowers, sticking out of a flower pot on Martin’s back.

“Those arrows,” she marvelled. “They’re beautiful.”

“They are,” agreed Martin. “Astrid made them. For me.”

Anna turned to look at Astrid, who was watching the two of them with a dry expression.

“A princely gift,” said Anna. “Take good care of them, Martin.” She patted him on the shoulder, and he looked up at her, swallowed hard, and nodded.

When Martin had left, Anna gave Astrid her full attention.

“Happy birthday, wild girl,” said Astrid.

“Those arrows that you gave Martin are incredible. What is the occasion?”

Astrid shrugged nonchalantly. “I am in a gift-giving mood. Speaking of which, I have something to give to you. Meet me out back.” Astrid went inside without another word and Anna, bemused, went to the cottage’s backyard and waited.

When Astrid came back, she had a serious look about her. Both of her arms were behind her back, her hands holding something unseen.

“Anna,” said Astrid. That got her attention. Usually Astrid addressed her as “wild girl” or “kiddo” or some variation thereof. Almost never did she call Anna by her name. “You come of age in troll society today,” she said. “That means that at least someone in this world now reckons you an adult. And a few days ago, you beat me sparring.”

Anna opened her mouth to protest, but Astrid cut her off. “Don’t interrupt me. I have seen you come a long way. So, I…” she paused for a long moment. “I want you to have this,” she said quickly, and whipped her hands out in front of her.

She was holding a sword in a leather scabbard embroidered with gold thread in florid shapes that ran up and down its length. The hilt was a dark red wood, the crossguard wooden with a fashion of a broad leaf etched into it, the handle of tough leather, and in the pommel that familiar red stone.

Anna lost her breath. “Astrid, no…” she said.

“Anna, yes. This is my sword. Ever since the day my mother gave me this sword, I dreamed of the day I’d pass it on to my… I’d pass it on to someone else. I knew that day would come. It’s a good sword. I hope that… I hope it serves you better than it served me.”

Anna gingerly, carefully accepted the sword with both hands. She looked up at Astrid’s face, and she felt her cheeks were wet. Astrid. If anyone was going to be her adoptive parent, why couldn’t it be her?

Then she realized. If Anders adopted her… Astrid would be her aunt. And she knew, in that moment, what her answer was. Tears in her eyes, she embraced Astrid, who embraced her back. Her teacher. Her friend. And soon, her aunt.

When Anna pulled out of the embrace, she drew the sword from the sheathe and gazed upon it by the light of the bronzing sun. Its folded steel blade caught the light and reflected it, sparkling as she turned it in her hands. She stepped back and gave it a cut, a stab, a swing, testing the weight and feel of it. It felt made for her hands; utterly, ineffably right.

“I named that sword Summer,” said Astrid, her voice oddly distant, “when I left Berk. I knew I was going to live in Burrowstown. I felt like my life was perfect. Like the sun was always shining on me. Summer.”

“Summer,” repeated Anna, and she stared at the blade.

The daylight was tiring out, and so Anna bid Astrid farewell and made her way through the village to Oaken’s cabin, where she would agree to the proposal. Her mind was full of what it meant. She would have parents, of a kind. Perhaps not her real parents, but who knew what had come of them? Or why she was raised with the trolls? Oaken, Anders, Kristoff, and Astrid were all practically family to her anyway. She’d just be making it official.

And she’d always have the trolls.

On the way, she had to go through the rather crowded town center. Though most were packing things and preparing to leave after a day of bartering and socializing, many were lounging around and simply talking, swapping skins of ale and enjoying the lazy sunset. Anna passed through, Astrid’s sword strapped to her hip, and noticed, at the foot of the Lord Mayor’s hill, Martin and a very tall young man, with a short close-cropped beard and a messy mop of jet-black hair, and dark eyes. He wore a silver-studded leather doublet over a dark gray tunic, and strapped across his back was a long greatsword. He was dangling Martin’s quiver of silvery-blue arrows over the younger boy’s short, short head.

Gods, thought Anna. I thought he was finished pushing Martin around. It felt like the same thing every time. Brendan. She felt like a pot of boiling water that threatened to spill over. She quickly turned her gait in the direction of the hill.

“Give it back!” snarled Martin with uncharacteristic vigor. It surprised Anna to hear Martin speak this way, and she began to feel somewhat anxious.

It took Brendan by surprise too, apparently, though he seemed to derive a greater amusement from Martin’s befuddlement. “Where did you get these? Tell me now, you little thief.”

“They were a gift!”

“A gift?” Brendan’s eyes bulged. “Who would give you a gift like this!”

“Astrid!”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Brendan mocked. “And how could that – that _nobody_ afford to give you silvyrwyd arrows as a gift? You know what I think? I think you’re lying and you stole these from my Lord Father, and he’ll thank me for taking them back – and cutting off your hand for thieving!”

Anna looked around. The square was clearly not deserted, so why was everyone ignoring this? _Everyone_ – really, truly, because she saw at the top of the hill two guards standing impassively, looking at the square with grave disinterest.

One of them was Armin. Martin’s father. His face was rock.

The rage boiled over. I have to do this every time. Nobody else does anything. She was awash with bitter anger. But Brendan was alone, this time. None of his cronies was around. She walked up to him, eyes burning.

“It is not nice to take things from people,” she said coolly.

“Oh, good gods, the wild girl,” he said. “Are you going to tell Martin it’s wrong to steal from his liege?”

“Aren’t you eighteen? Aren’t you a bit old to be bullying someone Martin’s age?”

“Bullying?” he echoed with confusion. “I’m governing. Do you have a problem with that?”

“As a matter of fact,” she drew Astrid’s sword, “yes, I do.”

He blinked at her, eyes going to her sword. “What exactly is your plan here, wild girl? You’re going to bare steel against your liege lord in public, with two of his guards in plain sight?”

“I will do more than bare steel,” she promised. “I will cut you down unless you give Martin his arrows back.”

His face screwed up, contorted with anger. “That’s a threat. A threat!” he shouted very suddenly, and many in the square stopped what they were doing to watch the unfolding spectacle. “My honor has been questioned!” He threw the quiver onto the ground, arrows spilling out of it into the dusty road, where a scrambling Martin picked them up. Brendan drew his greatsword, four feet of blackened steel, and leveled it at Anna.

By comparison, Astrid’s sword was a miserable two-and-a-half feet, and even that might have been overstating it. But Anna bore it just the same, clasping the handle with both hands and raising it in a high guard. She eyed Brendan intently. His stance was unpracticed. Intimidating to someone who didn’t know what they were looking for, perhaps, very much the picture of the heroic warrior – but his hands were nearly wrapped around each other, and he held the sword awkwardly: forward and low. He will attack first, and it will be like that time I tried to hit Astrid. If I can match his speed, that is.

That sword is sharp, though. And long.

He slashed clumsily, and she danced around the blow, attempting to move in on him. But his sword was long, and he brought it around to block her counterattack. There was now a clamor in the square, as people gathered around to watch. She wasn’t paying attention to them, though. Live in the moment. Fight in the moment.

She jumped back and resumed the high guard, and he gave a clumsy low strike. She slashed down and parried his blow, jumping away from his sword as she did. She didn’t have a shield, or armor, she reflected soberly. One wrong move and I’m dead meat.

But Brendan was getting frustrated. A vein was throbbing in his temple and his eyes were blackened coals. He screamed and lunged, greatsword high and coming low. A blow meant to kill, she knew, to cut her right in half. She turned her blade sideways and blocked the greatsword while it was high; she slipped out from under it, and it slammed harmlessly against the ground.

Now was her chance. He’s off-balance and defenseless. She jumped in close, too close, and slashed at his left hand. She felt her folded steel bite flesh, and saw a splatter of blood, and for a quickened moment her heart stopped beating.

Brendan had dropped his sword now, and was clutching his bloodied hand, now with two stumps where a ring and little finger used to be. They rolled in the dusty road. The smell of copper assaulted her nostrils and spun her stomach like a spit.

She backed up several paces, chest heaving, both hands still holding the hilt of her now reddened sword. There was blood on her hands, too. And her tunic. Brendan was screaming, looking at his wounded hand, crying fearful tears, his eyes bulging.

The two guards from the hill had started coming down when the fight broke out, and upon the maiming of Brendan’s hand, were split between advancing on Anna and helping their liege lord’s wounded son.

The guard who was not Armin spoke first. “You. You did this,” he pointed at Anna. “We saw it. Put down your sword, you’re under arrest.”

Defensively, she clutched her sword even tighter, and held it up. “He started it,” she said shakily.

“Aye,” said an onlooker, a man with auburn hair. Jack the woodcutter, she knew. “That boy Brendan struck first, he did.”

The door to the Lord Mayor’s longhouse burst open, and there stood the Lord Mayor Edward Burrows with his dark hair and faint goatee. He surveyed the square with fierce eyes, and settled them on Anna. Anna with a bloody sword held high, and his own son with a bloody hand.

His face melted in fury. He flew down the steps and across the square. “What is the meaning of this?” he roared, and chills ran down Anna’s spine.

“My lord,” said the guard. “The wild girl attacked your son – and severed two of his fingers.”

The Lord Mayor looked Anna up and down. The blood on her hands and tunic were all the proof he seemed to need. “You. You.” He was shaking in anger. “I thought I told you to stay away from my son. Wild girl! I’ll have your head for this!”

“He started it!” she repeated, shouting this time.

This time no onlooker came to her aid. The Lord Mayor eyed Anna coldly and turned to Armin. “Is it true, Armin? Did my son purposefully engage this nattering, filthy forest child?”

Anna looked Armin in the eyes, as fiercely as she could manage, though water was blurring her vision now. _You owe me,_ she tried to say with her eyes. _You owe me._

And Armin gave her the saddest look she had ever seen in return. _I know_ , that look seemed to say, and he said “No. She attacked him.”

The Lord Mayor clenched his teeth. “I knew this would happen. You, wild girl, you…” He stopped suddenly, as his gaze fixed on the sword she was holding. His eyes went huge. “That sword…”

By now the surrounding crowd was thick, with no doubt everyone in town turning out to see what had happened. In the midst of them, Oaken, Anders, and Kristoff had pushed to the front – and on seeing what had unfolded, went pale as ghosts. Anders retched at the sight of the blood.

On Anna’s other side, Astrid had appeared, and was marching up to the scene. She was controlling her expression diligently, her mouth ironed into a flat line, but the lack of color in her face betrayed all.

I really messed up, thought Anna horribly, and she felt sick.

“Astrid,” hissed the Lord Mayor softly. “The wild girl has your sword.”

“Yes, she does,” said Astrid simply.

“I mean to have her head for this.”

“No.”

The Lord Mayor stomped his feet, his dark gray eyes glistening slightly, his hands trembling. “Damn you, woman. Look at what she’s done to my son!”

Astrid looked at Brendan. If she felt any emotion at the sight of him lying on the ground, moaning and sobbing as he clutched at his maimed hand, it did not cross her face. She swiveled to look at Martin, who was still as a statue, eyes like tea saucers.

“Martin, what happened here?” she asked.

Martin swallowed visibly. “B-Brendan asked where I got these a-arrows. He said I stole them f-from the L-L-Lord Mayor. I t-told him I didn’t, that they were a gift from y-you. B-But he didn’t b-believe me. He s-said he was going to c-cut off my hand. Th-Then Anna showed up, and th-they drew their s-swords, and B-Brendan attacked her.”

Nobody spoke, until Armin cleared his throat. “He’s lying, my lord,” he said. “My son is a craven and a liar. He is only defending Anna because he desires her, and she has led him on with her womanly ways.”

“I do not!” said Martin with sudden vigor. “I am not a liar! Astrid gave me these arrows and Brendan was trying to take them away!”

“I did give him the arrows,” said Astrid, and she shot Armin a baleful look.

A bold onlooker, unseen in the throng, shouted then. “The wild girl bore steel first, but Brendan struck first! I saw’n it!” Murmurs of agreement lifted out of the crowd.

The other guard shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. “’Twas a duel, then. The law…”

“Don’t talk about the law,” snarled the Lord Mayor. “I am the law.”

“Edward, I will not allow you to do this thing,” said Astrid.

“Then what?” shouted the Lord Mayor. “You would deny me my vengeance? Is she to get off, free as a bird? I will not allow you to cully me on this!”

“You will not harm a single hair on her head,” said Astrid. “I gave her the sword. I taught her how to use it. She is my responsibility.”

“Then I will have both of your heads,” Edward said darkly.

Astrid’s eyes were cold as she stared at the Lord Mayor. “There is another way.”

The Lord Mayor matched her gaze with a contemptuous glare of his own. “You must swear to never speak to him again,” he said in a low voice.

“Agreed.”

“Very well, then,” said the Lord Mayor, and he turned back to Anna, his eyes spilling over with hatred. “Wild girl. Anna. Whatever your name is. You are hereby banished from Burrowstown and all its holdings, fiefs, and vassals. May the gods judge you for your crime in the hereafter. If you ever return, I will kill you myself.”

It was as if someone had pushed her off a cliff. She was reeling, dizzy from a falling sensation in her gut. “Banished?” she croaked.

“Yes, banished,” said the Lord Mayor through gritted teeth. “Now, go. GO!” He thrust out his hand and index finger, pointing, by chance, in the direction of the troll’s forest.

Unsteadily, Anna backed up, taking several steps, her heart pounding. Then she turned and ran. She ran until she got to the end of the village, just before the hill at the end of the forest, where Oaken and Anders’ cabin was. At some point, she sheathed her sword. Her hands were still bloody. She was well out-of-sight of the center of the village. She doubled over and cried silently.

She heard footsteps behind her, and her heartbeat quickened. Just taking a breath, she thought; I’ll be gone in no time, please don’t kill me. She stood up straight, drying her eyes on a tunic sleeve, and looked over her shoulder.

Martin was approaching, with Astrid behind him. Of course, Astrid wants her sword back. When they both stood before her, Anna clumsily unbuckled the leather scabbard, and held the sword out to Astrid.

But Astrid didn’t take it. She didn’t even look at it. She was silent, and staring at Anna with a hard, desolate gaze. That hurt more than anything.

“Astrid,” said Anna weakly. “I’m sorry.”

Without a word, Astrid turned around and walked away. Anna watched her go, her heart sinking deeper and deeper as she went. The hand holding the scabbard dropped limply to her side. No one was in sight now, except for Martin.

“Where are you going to go?” said Martin, after a malingering quiet.

Anna let out a shaky breath. It was hard to talk right now. “I don’t know.”

They stood in a renewed silence, until Martin spoke again. “Thanks for helping me, again. I’m sorry that…”

“No,” said Anna. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have gotten involved.”

Martin looked taken aback. “But if you didn’t get involved… I’d have lost my arrows. Astrid’s arrows.”

A beat. “That’s true,” admitted Anna.

“So, thank you for that,” said Martin. “And I’m sorry.” His head fell. “I was just thinking, since… since you’re leaving the town forever, and my father…” He paused gulpishly. “I was wondering if you would take me with you. As a squire,” he added quickly, a hopeful wrinkle in his brow.

Anna was so floored by this suggestion that she laughed incredulously. That wounded Martin, whose expression collapsed at that, so she said hastily, “Oh, no, I just – I’m not a knight, you know. How can I take you on as a squire?”

Martin shrugged feebly. “You’re the most knightly person I know.”

Anna had to smile at that. In spite of the terrible situation, in spite of what she just did – still Martin called her knightly. She didn’t feel knightly, but maybe that was part of it. “I don’t know where I’m going, as I said.”

He shrugged again. “I don’t care. Not back to town.”

She nodded her agreement at that. The sky was darkening, and that reminded her. “Right, I need to go to my home village for just a short while tonight. You can come along, if you want. It’s just a birthday party.”

“Oh, okay,” said Martin. “Wait, is that the… do you mean the cairn?” She nodded yes, smiling slightly, and continued into the forest – Martin trailing close behind, after half a moment’s bewildered deliberation.

They got to the crossing and continued down the stream to where the berry bushes sat happy and ignorant. Years now she had been coming and going to this stream, and years now those berry bushes still sat, growing berries as they always did, and never even one time cutting someone’s fingers off. In a strange way, she envied them their simple existence;anything would be better than feeling this way.

When she got there, she remembered, as the coppery smell lingered about her, that her tunic and hands were still stained with blood. She frowned deeply. “Martin, do you know anything about removing blood stains from clothing?” she asked dubiously.

“A little,” said Martin. Anna removed her overtunic and inspected her smallclothes and leggings. Clean, mostly; of blood, anyway. She washed her hands and arms in the river until they were sufficiently clean, and presented the tunic to Martin. “Any ideas?”

If Martin’s knowledge on clothware care was “a little,” she shuddered to imagine what “a lot” must be; Martin immediately set to work on the tunic, washing it in the stream and running it through with water, scrubbing viciously with fingers and pebbles. By the time he was done, the tunic was sodden, but clean of any apparent blood stains.

She pulled it on over her head, and Martin gasped. “You’ll catch a chill!”

Anna laughed lightly. “No, I won’t. I never catch chills. To be honest, the cold doesn’t really bother me.” She smiled warmly at him. It was true. Not that she couldn’t feel the bite of a cold day without warm clothing, but the cold sort of passed through her like sand through a sieve. She felt it, but it didn’t touch her. Except in her dreams, where it would stick to her, and hurt and burn and tear at her. But those were only dreams.

She set down her sword beside the stream, resolving to come back and get it when she had finished with the trolls. Best they not see it, she thought. She turned to Martin. “Alright, let’s go.”

They went into the troll cairn, and were greeted by such a sudden uproar that Martin jumped a yard into the air. The festivities were all prepared, and of such an impressive scale that even Anna was a little shocked to see it. Streamers and banners waved everywhere, tables were stacked and criss-crossed the cairn haphazardly, loaded high with rich salads heavy with berries, nuts, fruits, and vegetables of all kinds. Roasted fish, baked potatoes, stewed greens were in company as well, occupying stone basins and wooden bowls strewn everywhere. And trollish pine ale was in tremendous quantity, overflowing barrels and spilling in gallons.

Immediately Anna was assaulted with questions about the guest she had brought. “Cutie!” said Rain. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“No,” said Anna, chuckling. “He’s my squire.”

“A squire? But he looks like a human,” said Braffly.

“A squire, not a square, you ding-dong,” said Loot.

Martin was silent as he always was throughout this, and for a moment Anna was sorry she brought him. But then the trolls provided him a tall flagon of pine ale, and he coughed and sputtered over the first gulp. When he came up for air, his face was like a beet. This’ll be good for him, she hoped. The trolls are kind, and treat everyone like family. It’s better than being around his father, surely.

Anna didn’t have much of an appetite, but the trolls did – and Anna urged Martin to eat, since he had been drinking ale. The revelry lasted a good while, and by the end of it, all had had their fill, and were lolling lazily, some snacking on the remaining morsels, some drinking to their health (and, by volume anyway, everyone else’s as well), and the rest jesting and japing pleasantly in the light of the kindly half-moon. Then the Wise Troll stood up on a dais and shouted loud in a deep, booming voice.

“Welcome, all, to Anna’s five-and-tenth birthday!” Raucous cheering.

“I know many of you have given Anna her birthday blessings, and the rest will no doubt do so before the night is up – but now, now is the time of the Adulting!” More cheers.

“You all know how this works, so I sha’nt bore you with the details. Anna, if you would please come up here!” He smiled his big white smile, his big ears wiggling.

The Adulting was the official coming-of-age ceremony in a trollish fifteenth birthday. The tradition was that first the troll who was coming of age would stand on the dais and announce their chosen profession; then, the village would, collectively, give the troll one gift. By good fortune, the one gift was usually in line with the profession. A troll who sought to be a farmer usually got a hoe; a fisherman, a fishing rod; a hunter, a spear. Sometimes it required a little imagination to connect the gift with the profession – such as a watchman being given an acorn necklace – but it was generally the case that the two went hand-in-hand.

In Anna’s case, she hadn’t spoken a word about her chosen profession before the fact, and thus was certain the gift would have nothing to do with it. That didn’t bother her, though. The profession was in itself a gift. So long as she had that, she had all she wanted.

She stood up on the dais and surveyed the beaming crowd of trolls. She smiled happily at them, though there was a tinge of melancholy that stroked her heart with an anxious touch.

“Anna,” rang the Wise Troll. “You are now an adult troll in our humble village.” More cheering still. “Please, Anna, tell us: what is your chosen Profession?”

Anna took a deep breath, and let it out, to steady herself. “I want to be an adventurer!” she announced loudly.

No cheers whatsoever. Mostly puzzled looks, some shocked. Confused mutters skittered across the cairn.

“Adventurer?” repeated the Wise Troll. “You are… sure about this? No troll has elected to be an adventurer for…”

“Many years,” finished Anna. “Yes, I know. I have thought long about this, and I have decided.”

“You’re leaving us?” called one troll. The muttering grew in volume as the implication of her decision became clear.

“I know this is hard,” said Anna, trying as best as she could to keep the quavering out of her voice. “But I want to see the world. I want to see all of Arendelle. I want to see the world, but I will come back and visit! I promise!”

A definite pall had fallen over the celebration, though it was cleared somewhat by Anna’s promise to visit occasionally. “You are my family,” she said, and repeated, “I will visit. I promise I will.”

She turned to look at the Wise Troll, who nodded solemnly. “All right, Anna. Adventurer. Anna the Adventurer!” he proclaimed, to scattered applause.

“To be honest, Anna,” the Wise Troll went on, “I had a feeling you would choose this path.”

“How did you know?” asked Anna, with a raised eyebrow.

He spread his hands out. “Call it a hunch. A rolling stone gathers no moss, but you’re not a standing stone after all. A cairn is no place for a rolling stone. But still, moss is important to all of us. It is life and purpose. It thrives in all places, and always points the same way: north. It may be, on your travels, that you have need of such direction in your life. So…” He snapped his fingers. From a nearby table, a troll grabbed up a leafy bundle, and on stubby feet brought it up to the dais.

“Open it,” said the Wise Troll, as the troll presented the leafy bundle to Anna. She took it carefully, and peeled back the leaves on the bundle one by one.

Within the bundle was a large, thick, wooden shield. It looked like it had been lopped off the side of a tree wholesale, with its jaggedy uneven edge – except for the design of a large flower on the front, painted in scarlet relief against the earthy dark color of the wood. On the back side, the shield was perfectly smooth to the touch, and had two thick leather loops for putting the arm through. Yet another brilliant gift. The trolls were looking on eagerly. They had no idea – this was exactly what she needed. Wanted.

It was almost too much. People had done her so much kindness today, and all she had done in return was shorten someone’s hand. “It’s… it’s beautiful,” she choked out, unable to articulate anything more.

“Its name is Moss,” said the Wise Troll. “That way, even though you are a rolling stone, you’ll still have Moss.”

Anna looked up at the crowd of trolls, all half sad and all half glad. “Thank you all, so much. For everything.”

After that, the revelry continued for a while, as all the trolls went back to their gaming and singing, japing and drinking, and all of them wanted a turn to say their goodbyes to Anna. When asked where she was going to go, she just shrugged and said “Anywhere.” Under the influence of ale, Martin was meanwhile regaling some trolls with stories of Anna’s bravery. She appreciated that despite his slight inebriation, brought on by a few sips of pine ale, he maintained the good sense to not talk about any acts of violence she may have committed, especially in the past day or so.

Eventually, the party died down, and it was only then that Anna realized the night had grown old. Trolls were rolling off to fall asleep, or had just fallen unconscious at their seats. There was little activity except for a few stout trolls still grunting over stone flagons, and a couple of other trolls doing their very best impression of a tree in a storm, an activity they no doubt thought of as “dancing.” Martin had fallen asleep, and was dozing underneath a nearby broadleaf’s willowy canopy.

Anna was lost in thought, admiring the painting on her new shield, when the Wise Troll approached her. “That was an interesting reaction to have for a gift that’s little more than an accessory,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that a shield’s just a shield, and not much use by itself.”

Anna felt a blush creep across her face. “How do you know I wasn’t just being polite?”

The Wise Troll chuckled. “Oh, Anna. I know you. You wear your heart on your tunic. That was genuine excitement.”

Anna said nothing, and turned her face away from him to admire the painting again. She could feel the Wise Troll smile. “It’s okay. May I look at it?” he asked.

Slowly, she nodded, and stood up. She led him to the stream where she had left the sword, and picked it up. With a sudden stab of fear, she remembered that she hadn’t cleaned the blood off the blade. She resolved to keep it in the scabbard, no matter what.

“That’s a pretty hilt,” observed the Wise Troll. “And is that a ruby in the pommel? Hm… I haven’t seen a design like this in… many a year. A kingly gift.”

She nodded stiffly, mind still fixated on the latent danger.

The Wise Troll cocked his head. “May I see the blade?”

She locked her jaw, and shook her head. “That’d be dangerous,” she said, attempting to clarify, and cringing at the irony in what she just said.

“I’ll be fine. My skin is hard as rock.” He smiled. “And I assume you have training in how to handle a sword, since someone seems to have thought it appropriate to gift you with one.”

Anna hesitated, her fingers drumming the hilt as she tried to think of another excuse. The Wise Troll seemed to notice her trepidation, and his smile fell slightly.

“Please?” he asked, his voice ringing with a faint hint of concern.

She exhaled heavily and, slowly, pulled the sword from the scabbard. Even in the moon-and-starlight, the blood on the sword was clearly visible, dull red against the starshining steel.

The Wise Troll gave a heavy sigh of his own and rubbed his temples with a thumb and forefinger. “Oh, Anna.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” but her voice was as hollow as it had ever been.

There were no words for a few moments. The whistling of the crickets and the yawning of the wind were the only sounds. Anna’s beating heart pounded in her ears.

“Where are you going to go, Anna?” asked the Wise Troll.

“I don’t know,” said Anna. Then, she remembered. “The king and queen are dead. The princess is to be crowned in a week and some days. I may go to the city, to see. After that – I don’t know.”

The Wise Troll grunted. “I knew the king and queen. May the Earthmother conduct their souls to the World Tree.” He gave her a wary look. “You mean to go to the city?”

“Yes,” said Anna.

“Will you hear one last piece of advice from me, before you do?”

“Of course, Wise Troll.”

“Don’t,” he said, his voice crackling with finality. “Don’t go to the city, and don’t see the coronation.”

Anna had no intention of heeding this advice. But she had to know. “Why not?”

“Because it’s dangerous.”

She could have laughed. Instead she just smiled dryly and, sliding the sword back into its scabbard, said “I think I am well-equipped for dangerous, Wise Troll.”

“Yes, you do,” he said sadly.

A lump formed in her throat. She swallowed it. “Thank you, again. So much. I think I will leave before… before light. I don’t want to have to say goodbye again.”

“As you will,” said the Wise Troll. A pause. Then, “We love you, Anna. We just want what’s best for you.”

“I appreciate that,” said Anna. “I really do. But… I think this is what’s best for me. To follow my heart.”

“Your heart,” repeated the Wise Troll, his eyes clouding over for a moment. “Yes… Well, I cannot stop you. Just promise me you’ll come back whenever you need help. Will you do that for us? For me?”

Anna smiled and nodded. “Of course.”

Anna slid back into the cairn on silent feet, and woke up the sleeping Martin.

“Whazzat?” he muttered, and rubbed his eyes.

“Martin,” she said. “My squire. We must go.”

“Now?” he said groggily, sitting up.

“Now.”

They gathered up their things – scant belongings that they were – and left the cairn quietly, stopping by the stream only to refresh themselves and wash Anna’s sword before continuing on to the crossing. Light was breaking by the time they reached the place the path and stream crossed. She looked to the right. All until now, she had gone right at this crossing, because that was the way Burrowstown was. But that being no longer an option, she looked left. That way was the Ice Fields, where the icers worked year-long at gathering ice; between here and there was the end of the Springway, the long road that went all the way to…

The sound of galloping broke her concentration. From her right, a horseman was coming up the road. No, not a horseman – the steed had too many antlers to be a horse. It was a reindeer. Sven. And riding him was…

“Kristoff!” shouted Anna, and her heart leapt into her throat.

“Feisty-pants!” he shouted back. He was wearing an enormous satchel strapped around his back, from which dangled two pans, a pot, and a lute. That ridiculous lute that he loved to play when he thought nobody was listening. He rode up to them and hopped off of Sven, pots and pans jangling when his boots hit the road.

“Kristoff, what are you doing here?” she said, after an instant of speechlessness.

Kristoff looked puzzled at that. “I came to join you.”

“But what about… Your family? Oaken and Anders?”

“Ah, yeah, that,” he said a little sheepishly. “After your little… ah… ‘spat’ with Brendan in the main square, we talked long and hard about it. There’s no way they can adopt you now, without the Lord Mayor banishing them, too. They argued about it, like they always argue, about whether they should adopt you anyway, and who would take care of you.”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” said Anna indignantly.

Kristoff ignored the interruption. “They couldn’t think of a way to help you. So I told them to forget about it, to stay and open up their trading post, and I’d go with you and help look after you.”

“I don’t need looking after,” said Anna, pride now well and wounded.

“Oh no? How many provisions do you have for your journey? Waterskins? Anything for cooking and cleaning? How will you start a fire?”

Anna opened her mouth to respond and, upon being unable to find a good reply, grunted and folded her arms. “I’d have managed,” she scowled.

Kristoff laughed and rolled his eyes. “I brought all that stuff. But if you don’t want my help…” his voice trailed off.

They stood there for a tense moment, glaring at one another. “Um… you guys?” said Martin, and then Anna and Kristoff both burst into laughter. Anna ran up and pulled Kristoff into a hug.

“You’re a good friend, Kristoff. Thanks.”

“Hey, what are friends for?”

“Are you sure about this?” she asked, pulling away. “It’s a lot to ask of someone.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He reached behind him to pull a foldied piece of goatskin out of a pocket on the huge satchel on his back. “You forgot this, by the way.” He handed it to her.

“The map!” she exclaimed, and unfolded it hurriedly. All three of them crouched over to inspect it.

“So, where are we going, Ser Anna?” asked Kristoff.

She snorted at him, and pointed to the end of the long road called the Springway. “There. Crystalwater. The capital of Arendelle, the seat of the Royal Family.”

“That’s a long way,” said Martin.

“About a week’s journey by horse, I should think,” said Kristoff, shrugging. “Probably longer on foot.”

Anna frowned and folded the map up, stowing it in a pocket on her person. “We’ll have to go fast, then, to make it in time for the coronation.”

And so they were off, turning left at the crossing and continuing down the road, away from the troll cairn and away from Burrowstown. As they walked, Anna checked her belongings. Her new shield called Moss was slung across her back, and she had her new map in her pocket. On her head was still the green hat Oaken gave her the day before. And at her hip was her sword, her new sword, with whose help she had gotten herself banned from a village that had only ever shown her kindness.

She pulled the sword from the scabbard to inspect it, twisting it back and forth and watching as the morning sun sprinkled its light all over it. It drank the sunbeams like a man dying of thirst, and spit them back out like a fountain, its folded steel shooting reflected light in all directions.

Kristoff whistled. “Nice sword. What’s it called?”

She remembered what Astrid named the sword, and why. Summer, because she felt like the sun was shining down on her. Anna didn’t know what the future held, but she didn’t think it would be easy. Summer doesn’t last forever, and her summer had come to an end. She had time, though. Time before the winter of her life. She looked at the broad leaf etching on the crossguard.

“Autumn,” she said.

Kristoff hummed thoughtfully. “I’d have called it Brat-slayer, myself.”

Martin laughed, and Anna smiled in spite of herself. Not a bad name, except Autumn hadn’t slain any brats. Summer, though…

The folded steel glinted in the sunlight, and Autumn seemed to agree.

 


	8. The Fat Rooster

An enormous boulder marked the place where the Springway began, a short cut away from the path that led from the troll forest to the ice fields. Carved on the boulder in large, bold letters were the following words:

_This stone marketh the Nor’end of the springway, as were laid down by His Majesty King Andrew the First. T’west, thou findeth the wolfswoods. T’east, thou findeth the frozen fjords. T’north, thou findeth the great mountain. T’south, thou followeth the springway._

Carved under that, in smaller letters of a different print, more slender and oddly shaped:

_Here be the final resting place of the First King. May he find in death the peace he never knew in life._

Anna studied the boulder for a long time, and then pulled out her map and inspected it thoroughly. She tapped a small gray dot with her index finger. “We are here,” she announced, and showed the map to her bemused compatriots. She traced her finger down the length of the long black line extending south from the dot. “This is the Springway.” Her finger rested at the end of the line, on the little drawing of houses and a castle. “And this is Crystalwater, our destination.”

Martin nodded and Kristoff stepped from one foot to the other. Though Sven was with them, Kristoff did not ride him, instead opting to load Sven with the large bag of provisions he had brought for the journey. Sven didn’t seem to mind, though, and probably considered it preferable to carrying a 16year old boy around.

“So… we just follow this road?” Kristoff gestured to the dark gray and black-blue cobbled path that shot like an arrow to the south, away from the boulder. The path went out as far as the eye could see, and stopped abruptly a few yards away from the base of the enormous boulder with its carved message.

“I think so,” said Anna, and she folded up the map after a final inspection, then surveyed the boulder again. “But that is an odd stone.”

“What’s odd about it?” Martin asked.

“The message,” said Anna. “It mentions a few locations nearby, like a ‘wolfswood’ and ‘frozen fjords.’ But there are no places like that listed on the map.”

“Maybe their names changed?” offered Kristoff with a shrug. “It’s an old boulder, right? Maybe the ‘frozen fjords’ are an old name for the ice fields.”

“Maybe,” said Anna. “Anyway, if we go directly south, it’ll be a long trek and we’re unlikely to meet anyone. The Springway splits at a place called Vardale. The southern fork continues on to Crystalwater, but the western fork goes back to Burrowstown.”

“Ah, oh yeah.” Kristoff’s face lit up. “That’s the way that horseman came, a few days ago, I think. It’s a popular detour on the way to the ice fields or – gods forbid – the North Mountain. No one much goes up this section of Springway, as it’s mostly barren. But with the Ghost Post, that may soon change.”

Now there’s an idea, mused Anna, but not the one she was having. She was more worried that Vardale might give them a chilly reception on account of close ties with Burrowstown. Keep a low profile, she thought, and we should be fine.

“There’s another reason people don’t go up this part of the Springway,” said Martin, shivering visibly. “The eastern hills are – are fraught with bandits and wildmen.”

“We’ll be careful,” she assured him. She patted him on the shoulder and smiled. He still had his yew bow and the quiver of silver arrows that Astrid had given him. Something about the way Brendan had talked about Martin’s arrows made Anna doubt that Astrid had really fletched them. Brendan called them “silvyrwyd.” She had never heard of such a thing before – and neither, apparently, had Kristoff, nor Martin, who was convinced they were a gift from Astrid, made with her own hands, and guarded them jealously.

The road was long, but well cobbled, and rarely twisted or changed directions. Moss and weeds grew in some of the cracks between the stone bricks in the road, but on the whole it was in good condition. The weather was slightly foggy, and a damp, cold smell followed them everywhere. They left the forest behind a short way from the stone, and for the nonce, they were in a wide, open section of country. To the west and north, they could see the rolling pines of the trolls’ forest, and, to the east, large hills, with low, wide mountains looming in the distance.

That night, they made camp at the side of the road. Kristoff attempted to start a fire on a damp assortment of kindling he scavenged from the wood side, but didn’t have much luck striking a blaze. At last he gave up with a huff and instead sullenly drew a thin ragged blanket around his shoulders. He distributed some cold hard bread and split an apple into thirds, and they supped on that. Then, shivering in the evening chill, they laid out their bedrolls and huddled up together. For a time, Kristoff and Martin talked idly, probably to get their minds off the cold. But Anna, who was exhausted, and yawning, and quite comfortable swaddled up in her mossroll, fell asleep quickly.

In her dream, she was staring into a vanity. Her teal blue eyes stared back at her, unsmiling. Her finely kept eyelashes did not move or flutter. Not this, not again. Unease slid through her veins. Though the air was still, the wind blew through her, black and heavy.

Her blonde hair was drawn up and carefully arranged in a close bun, every strand neatly tucked away, all held together by a brilliant silver clasp studded with small diamonds. She wore an azure dress without unseemly ruffles, and a violet bodice laced with blue and silver vines. Just the kind of outfit to receive returning royalty. But she knew it would be replaced, later. Later, for the mourning.

A knocking at the door. “Come in,” said a faint, cold voice, and she turned away from the vanity.

The door opened, and in entered Gerda. Faithful, old Gerda. Just like last night, and the night before. She wore a somber look, her cheeks shiny with newly-shed tears. “Your Grace, terrible news…”

Her throat became thick. Dread enveloped her. “Gerda? Good heavens, what’s the matter?”

She dismissed her servant afterwards with a quiet thanks and turned back to the vanity, her heart hammering at her throat. Her face was still, still as stone. Or ice. She impulsively jumped up and strode over to the window to gaze at the sky, huge and empty and filled with stars. She threw open the window and let the frigid night air touch and kiss her.

That is it, she thought, and she stared out at the city and the vale beyond. That is it. I am alone now. Are you happy, you damnable gods? I am alone. Alone with my kingdom.

Anna woke to the sounds of talking and the smell of dew-wet grass. It was still an hour until dawn, but she and Kristoff were both used to such early risings. Kristoff was happily shearing off parts of a hard block of cheese and breaking his fast upon them, chattering merrily as he did; Martin was not nearly so spry, but awake all the same.

They hit the road again, Martin yawning widely, just as the sky started to shed its evening blacks. The fog was heavy, and they couldn’t see the horizon, but that was not important to them. As long as they kept to the Springway, they’d find their end one way or another,if they didn’t get turned around by mistake.

They talked a little on the road, Kristoff occasionally remarking on a passing tree or a moment of clear sky, and whistling jauntily the rest of the time. Martin, meanwhile, was looking rather dour, and walked with hunched shoulders and eyes cast downwards. Did he regret coming? she wondered. Or was it just the weather? On that point, at least, she sympathized with him. The air was thick, wet, heavy, and cold. What this valley needed was a good, stiff wind.

Without the sun to go by, it was difficult to tell how much time had passed – though it seemed little enough before Kristoff began to complain of being footsore. “We should have taken some horses from the town stables,” he grumbled.

“But stealing is wrong!” Martin gaped at him.

“A lot of things are wrong,” said Kristoff vaguely. Anna narrowed her eyes at him.

“We can try to trade for some donkeys in the next town,” she said.

“With what? We don’t have much to trade.”

“We have all the supplies and things that you brought.”

“We also have the things that _you_ brought.” Kristoff turned his head to face Martin. “And _his_ arrows.” In return, Martin gave Kristoff a dirty look.

“Everything I brought was a gift,” said Anna, offended. “It would be wrong to trade it.”

“What if it’s the only way to get to Crystalwater before the coronation?”

Anna bit her lower lip, and turned back to face the road ahead. “Well… it still wouldn’t be worth it.”

“Oh no? There are other swords, but Princess Elsa will only be crowned once.”

“There aren’t any other swords like this.”

Kristoff shrugged. “They’re all just slabs of steel. One is much like another.”

Anna swiveled hotly on him. “What if I said that about blocks of ice?”

“That’s different!” said Kristoff, his voice rising. “Every slab of ice is unique, like snowflakes are…”

“You know Anders says that’s not true? That most snowflakes are the same?”

“Oh, that’s just Anders being cynical. You know how he gets,” said Kristoff testily. “Every block of ice is its own block. It has all kinds of tiny imperfections – air bubbles, scratches, marks. No two ever form the same way, but those imperfections unite them all. You wouldn’t even be able to say two blocks of ice were the same if they didn’t look just a little bit different. You wouldn’t even think of it!”

“Maybe, but the same is true of steel, I assure you.”

Kristoff snorted. “Well, if your stuff and Martin’s stuff is out of the question, then the fact remains that all we have to trade are a few common provisions and some simple cookware and tools.”

“That may be enough, if we find a desperate buyer. Did Oaken teach you nothing?”

“Okay, so I’m not exactly a genius at haggling,” said Kristoff, waving his arms dramatically.

“Maybe we could sell Sven,” teased Anna. Sven seemed to give her an offended look at that. “Oh, you know I’m just kidding,” she said sweetly to the reindeer. She turned back to Kristoff. “Kristoff, why don’t you just ride Sven?”

“It wouldn’t be fair to you guys,” he said, a sheepish note seeping into his voice.

“I won’t mind,” promised Anna. “And neither will Martin. Will you, Martin?”

“Hm?” said Martin, snapping out of an apparent daydream. “I – uhm – no, of course not, ser. I mean, m’lady.”

“Cut that out, I’m neither,” said Anna, and Kristoff laughed, but he didn’t mount Sven either, and that was the end of the discussion on being footsore.

Eventually a northerly wind began to rise in the valley and slowly the fog began to drift away in patches, while the clouds above peeled back to reveal blue sky. Off in the north, she noticed, tall, black clouds were gathering. So much for the change of weather, she thought bitterly.

Martin had the same thought, apparently. “Storm clouds,” he pointed out.

“They’ll be on us by nightfall,” said Kristoff with a frown. “Hopefully we’ll find some shelter before then.”

As luck would have it, they did. The sky was darkened by clouds and the setting of the sun when they came upon a small huddle of buildings on the edge of a lake. A two-story timber building sat in the middle of the huddle, and warm lights glowed in the windows all around it. Connected to it on the left side was a round stone tower, easily forty feet tall, with a bell at the top. On the right, another wooden building stood, one story tall with wide doors and a high roof. “A stable,” said Kristoff, excitedly. “I’ll bet this is an inn.”

Anna looked over her map. There were no labels between the end of the Springway and Vardale, and certainly nothing to indicate the presence of an inn. “Maybe this is Vardale,” she said with cautious optimism. But if that was true, then they’d have gone a full fourth of the Springway in one day – and she really doubted that they made such good time.

“A bit small to be a town,” Kristoff deadpanned. He was right – from what they could still see in the gathering darkness, there was nothing else for miles.

They approached the front of the inn and knocked on a thick oaken door. Above the door an iron sign hung. In the dim light, Anna couldn’t quite tell what the sign was supposed to be, but it looked like an absurdly fat rooster in mid-crow.

The door was answered by an absurdly fat woman in a brown homespun dress, with a great mass of chins and huge wobbly arms. She was taller than any of them, as well, and her waist must have been four times Anna’s around. On top of her head was a thick black coif of hair that tumbled over her shoulders, and her hazel eyes gleamed at them from a very pale face, flushed red with life or alcohol – Anna couldn’t tell.

“Ay, young travellers! Welcome to the Fat Rooster! What’ll it be that yer needing?”

“Lodging for three, and a stable for our reindeer,” said Anna.

She looked between the three of them with a surveying glance. “And how’ll ye be payin’ for the pleasure?”

“We haven’t got any silver, but we have some trade goods,” said Anna, hoping Kristoff would pick up.

“Ah, right,” said Kristoff, catching the hint. “Mostly provisions, some cookwares, skins, odds-and-ends – that sort of thing.”

She scratched her chin with a fleshy hand. “Hmm… might be we can work something out. Ye wouldn’t happen t’ have a shovel?”

Kristoff’s expression fell. “No shovel, but I do have rope and a pickaxe.”

“What kind of rope?”

Kristoff produced an intermediate length of rope and demonstrated its make and quality for her. She insisted on seeing for herself, and picked up the length and tested it by pulling on it and picking at the weave. “Turns out, I’ve got a need for some rope like this. One of my idiot sons gone and done lost the rope we’s using for the well, so’s might be I can replace it with this. I love my sons – I’ve got seven of ‘em, strong and healthy – but they’re all idiots. I say this’ll buy yer lodging, but if it’s supper ye’ll be wanting…”

“We have onions,” said Kristoff. “And potatoes. Take your pick.”

“Both, aye, that’ll do.”

They paid in their goods up front, and while Kristoff went to put up Sven in the stables, Anna and Martin were let in to the common room. It was dimly lit by a single sconce at a table near the back and a fireplace in the corner, and interspersed with occasional tables and chairs. Three passageways at the back led to the stairwell, the kitchen, and the dining area respectively.

The common area was largely unoccupied: only an old man with a bushy gray beard, wrapped in a gray cloak, sat dozing in a chair near the fireplace. Sounds of merriment and diversion were coming from the dining room. Anna and Martin were shown to their room on the second floor. The room was a dismal affair, but it was shelter: a single large straw bed, no doubt riddled with fleas; a trunk; and a water basin were all the amenities provided to them.

“There’s a privy out back for when nature calls,” the fat woman told them. “Come down for supper soon as ye please, it’s first come first serve.”

When the woman left them, Anna went to the basin and removed her hat, throwing it down on the bed. She dipped her hands into the water and rinsed her face and hair. The water was cold and left her feeling clammy, but it was refreshing all the same. She was exhausted from a whole day of walking, and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep immediately. But she was hungry, too, and when she was finished washing, Kristoff had entered the room. “Let’s go get supper,” she told him and Martin. “Some hot food sounds great right now.”

“Sure thing,” said Kristoff. “By the way, there were several horses already in the stables when I brought Sven there.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“No,” said Anna firmly.

The dining room was long and filled with barrel tables, stools, and benches. A small number of stout, quiet individuals sat throughout, nursing tankards of ale and eating a grayish stew out of trenchers of hard bread. At the far end of the room, near a large burning fireplace, a group of four men were drinking and eating merrily, and talking loudly. A ribald jest hit her ears, and she found herself blushing uncontrollably.

But it wasn’t the fact that they were loud that caught Anna’s attention. No, it was that they were armed: all of them were wearing studded leather doublets and chain shirts, and big cloaks of varying shades of gray and dark brown, with different weapons slung across their backs or buckled at their hips. One man had a long sword at his hip, another had a long axe whose wickedly curved head peeked out over his shoulder. The third man had two daggers, one on either hip, while the fourth man had a crossbow, not attached to his person but resting on the table next to his tankard of ale.

Anna led her group to sit as far away from the four men as the geometry of the room permitted, and shortly the big woman came and presented them with their food: hard bread and greasy, lukewarm stew. It was better than nothing, though, so Anna ate.

At length, some of the other individuals filed out of the room, each one bidding the innkeep a “Good night, mother,” until all that were left were the four men in the corner and Anna’s group. The innkeep came by now and again, refilling ale and stoking the logs in the hearth with a long, sharp, iron poker.

Later still she brought them honeyed milk, which Anna drank gratefully. It was sweet and refreshing, and even a little cool. She asked the innkeep how far off Vardale was.

“Vardale, ye said?” she repeated. “Aye, I think maybe it’s about a day and a half’s ride from here.”

“A day and a half?” blurted Anna. “Riding?”

“Aye. Have ye business in Vardale?”

“We’re going to Crystalwater,” said Kristoff.

“Well, it’s easily six days’ ride to Crystalwater.”

Anna felt her eyebrows go up, mirroring her alarm. Six days! By horse! She’d thought they were much closer than that. Their prospects for getting to Crystalwater before the coronation were looking grim.

Martin brought up another subject with the innkeep. “You said you have seven sons?”

“Aye, that I do,” she said, with an look that was a cross between a beam and a grimace. “A bumbling lot, but they do what I tell ‘em. They all live in the bell tower. Whenever I needs them, I just rings the bell.”

“You climb the belltower just to ring the bell?” asked Anna.

“No, don’t be silly, girl. My kitchen’s at the base of the belltower. There’s a great big rope in there that I pull to ring the bell. My sons are all strong, and each one is bigger than the last – so don’t go starting trouble now, you hear?” She winked at them and guffawed, and then went off to refill the flagons of the men near the fireplace.

Anna sipped her milk and brooded on the journey ahead. Try as she might, no good solution for getting to Crystalwater in time came to mind.

The three of them sat mostly in silence, though as the night grew older, the chill grew stronger. Though Anna was stubbornly insistent on staying away from the fire, Kristoff was not so convinced. “The fire is warm, and I’m cold,” he complained.

“It’s not that cold,” said Anna.

“Too cold for me. I’m going over there.” Kristoff stood up and walked across the room, settling in a place on the bench by the fire.

Muttering invectives against his pigheadedness, Anna reluctantly followed, and Martin trailed behind. “We could have gone into the common room,” she hissed at Kristoff, as she sat down across from him.

Kristoff gave her a baffled look. “What does that matter?” he said.

“Because,” she whispered, “I don’t want to sit next to _them_.” She jerked her head in the direction of the four men, sitting a table over, still drinking and talking, and now also leaning over a pair of dice.

Before Kristoff could respond, a rumble from one of the men shuddered through the room. “Yeah, arright, give it here,” boomed the man with the crossbow, a thick bald man whose squashed face hosted an unkempt hairbrush of a brown mustache. He cruped a big pile of silver coins over to his end of the table, and dumped them in a thick brown pouch. He set the pouch with a heavy jangle down on the table.

“Now you buy the next round of ale,” said the man with the longsword. He had a thick golden beard, green eyes, and a sharp nose.

“Bugger that, buy your own ale,” said the crossbowman. He banged his empty tankard on the table. “MORE ALE!” he roared at the doorway.

The fat woman – whose name, Anna realized, she did not know – came in with a flagon and poured him some sour-looking brown ale. “More for the rest of ye?”

“Not me,” said the man with the axe, who stood up shakily. His voice was wattled and throaty, like his neck. “I’m sick o’ this lout and his cheats. I’m off to bed.”

“Bugger you too,” said the crossbowman, and he gulped down his drink greedily.

The axeman staggered away, and the innkeep filled the rest of their flagons. “Did you hear about the Royal Family, my dear Madam White?” said the longswordsman conversationally, addressing the big woman.

“Aye, ’spect I did,” she replied. “It’s only the tenth or so time ye’ve mentioned it t’ me.”

“Perhaps if I mention it another ten times, you’ll pay your due respects.”

Madam White snorted. “Respects! Can’t say I have respects for them what goes gallivanting around on boats in the season of storms.”

The longswordsman smiled and turned his hands out. “Surely you must agree that everyone makes mistakes now and again?”

“Not me, aye, and ye’ll never catch me on a boat out at sea, ’specially not in the season of storms,” said Madam White stubbornly.

“No boat would fit you, you old hag,” grunted the crossbowman.

“Watch yer tone, ye drunken lout, or I’ll call my sons.”

“Bugger your sons,” said the crossbowman, and he drank.

“You’re in a buggery mood today,” said the longswordsman dryly. “Mayhap you’ve had too much drink.”

“Not bloody likely. I needs drink to my health and the Royal Family’s. Oh, poor Royal Family, you died much, much too soon! What’s a poor sellsword supposed to do in a time like this?”

“Shut up, Robert,” said the man with the dirks. His face was barely visible beneath the hood he wore, and his shadowed chin was only very lightly brushed with black hair.

The crossbowman grunted and drained his flagon. “I wonder about that daughter o’ them’s. I heard she’s a pretty sort. I wouldn’t mind giving her a turn, if she’s half so pretty as they say.”

A bilious feeling curdled in Anna’s stomach, and she narrowed her eyes in the direction of the three men. She thought she noticed the hooded man staring back, so she quickly averted her gaze and jerked her goblet up to her mouth, spilling a little milk on her hand in the process.

When Madam White left again, the hooded man spoke to Anna. His voice was not unkind, but something about the way he was looking at her made Anna feel as though someone had dumped boiling water down her spine. “Little girl. Was there something about my friend’s comments that upset you? I assure you, there is no cause. He has simply had too much to drink. He is a rambler.”

The crossbowman turned his beefy neck to stare gawkily at Anna. His mustache ruffled. “What did I say? I didn’t say nothing.”

Anna found her voice. “No, nothing. I was merely… surprised to hear him speak so frankly. That is all.”

The hooded man continued staring, but the longswordsman laughed. “Yes, he has an exceptional talent for speaking frankly. It’s like as not to get him killed someday.” He smiled and gave the crossbowman a sharp look.

“Bugger that,” said the crossbowman, and he put a protective hand on his crossbow. “A man’s allowed to complain about his bad luck. Why not?”

Yes, thought Anna; it was bad luck. But not yours.

“Robert,” said the longswordsman. He smacked a hand on the table and gestured to the dice with the other. “Let’s go again. Double or nothing.”

“Double or nothing?” repeated the mustache, waving along in time with the words. “No, you cheat, you’ll cheat me. I’ll keep my something. First the Royal Family, and now this? Bad luck I have friends like you.” The crossbowman was standing now, and swaying in place. “I bet you ensorceled that storm and made off with the reward yourself, I bet, you damn cheat.”

The longswordsman was white as snow now. A flush of stark alarm filled Anna. She bolted to her feet just as the longswordsman and hooded man rose as well. Her hand went subconsciously to her belt, inches away from Autumn’s hilt.

“Reward?” squeaked Martin. “F-For what?”

The hooded man growled. “Damn you, Robert, you damn bloody fool. Look, he’s a stupid sod. Robert, just sit your arse down-”

“Shut up!” Robert roared at the hooded man, and he banged the table with his fist. The table rattled and upset his tankard, which spilled off the edge and clattered against the floor. “I’m sick of squatting here! I’m sick of you ain’t tellin’ me shit! And for what? Job’s done, innit? We ain’t got no reason to stay!”

“The job isn’t done, Robert,” hissed the hooded man. “Now be quiet.”

The crossbowman’s eyes boggled at him. “Isn’t done?” he repeated, almost wonderstruck. “Who…? The princess…?”

“You mean to kill the princess?” Anna gasped. “That’s treason!”

The hooded man ground his teeth audibly. “It is,” he said, and then looked at Anna. His eyes were fire, and seemed to stare directly through her. “Please forgive my friend for his big mouth.” His hand went to his belt.

Anna drew her sword in response and held it in front of her. I’ve done this a million times before, she thought. But even so, her knees were shaking treacherously. Focus. _Focus._ Deep breaths.

The crossbowman looked at Autumn for a long moment before his face contorted in rage. “You think I’m about to be afraid of a pissant little Arendellit bitch? Who do you think you are, anyway?”

Her knees steadied. An electric calm filled her body. Her every muscle tensed. “I am Anna, the Sword of Autumn,” she heard herself say. “And I kill traitors.”

“I ain’t no traitor,” snarled the crossbowman, and he jumped back and grabbed his crossbow.

Anna tried to move in, but the longswordsman was fast, and before she could take one step, he was standing between her and the mustachioed man, his own steel drawn. “We don’t want any trouble, little girl,” he said evenly.

“We have it whether we want it or not,” said the hooded man plaintively.

A noise came from the entrance to the room. They all turned their heads to the door, except for Anna and the longswordsman, whose eyes were locked. Slowly Anna shifted her footing to catch a view of the entryway.

Madam White had entered, her hands full with flagons of ale. “More ale for ye-” she stopped suddenly as she took in the scene. What little color she had fell out of her face like water. “Good gods, what’s going on here?”

The hooded man swiveled his cloak around him and walked up to the innkeep, his right arm extended in a conciliatory gesture. “My dear Madam White, this is a misunderstanding. We are merely having a discussion.”

“A discussion?” repeated Madam White incredulously. “Yer baring steel at the poor girl!”

“I know what it looks like, trust me, but we should not want to awaken the wrath of your sons, would we? We have been guests here for how long, now?”

“For quite some time,” she replied uneasily.

“And we appreciate the guest right as good as any civil men, do we not?”

“Aye, that’s so,” she said.

“So for our sake, won’t you please just… turn away?” He smiled handsomely at her.

She looked like he had just asked her to swallow a spider. She pursed her lips and raised her chin up high. “I won’t allow ye to harm any guest while they’re under my roof. What ye do out there in the hinterlands is no business of mine, but under this roof I’ll have no quarrels. I must ask ye to put up yer weapons, or else I _will_ get my sons.”

“That’s a shame,” sighed the hooded man, and he grabbed Madam White’s arm with his outstretched hand and yanked her close. Her eyes widened, and the hooded man’s left hand flew up and opened her throat from ear to ear with a long, cruel dagger. She gurgled for a moment, stumbled backwards, and then collapsed to the floor in a great heap. Anna felt her heartbeat quicken, and she took a few careful steps backwards, her grip tightening around the hilt of her sword so much that it hurt.

“You killed her!” the crossbowman wheezed at the hooded man.

“Yes, and before the night is out, we’ll have left four bodies in this room.” He spat. “You better be sure that woman’s sons will be after us by the ‘morrow.”

“Four bodies?” repeated Anna aloud. The hooded man twisted his head to look at her, his hand shifted slightly…

Anna jumped to the side, narrowly dodging the dagger as it landed with a dull thud against a barrel behind her. “Martin, get behind me! Kristoff-” a savage swipe from the longswordsman broke her concentration. She brought Autumn up to parry the blow, just barely meeting his steel. Cling, clang, clang, their steel sang and they went back and forth. He had the reach on her, but she had speed, and she nimbly dodged and met his blows, whistling her blade around his relentless strikes.

The crossbowman was now swearing loudly, and had backed to the corner of the room where he was attempting, drunkenly, to load his weapon, his thick fingers fumbling at the winch. The hooded man had drawn a long knife with a serrated edge, and was slowly advancing on Anna, even while she was occupied keeping the longswordsman at bay.

Suddenly an arrow appeared in the longswordsman’s shoulder, a blur of blue and silver that lodged itself firmly between his arm and chest, and he staggered back, one hand losing its grip on his sword. An opening, she thought, and Anna tried to move in, but the hooded man slid his knife in with a wild jab. She had to jump back, and knocked into a barrel. It fell away behind her, and as she fell, she saw the longswordsman’s blade cleave the area her head had just been.

She scrambled to her feet just as a twang came from the corner of the room, and a small gray dart zipped by her head. Sudden pain erupted from her right ear. She bit back a cry of pain, and stepped back several more paces, until she felt the wall behind her. Carefully, she drew her shield from her back, and settled it on her left arm.

Another arrow came from the corner of her vision to thud into the longswordsman’s chest, and he fell to his knees. “Robert, get the kid,” growled the hooded man. “Stop groping with that damn thing and-”

Anna screamed and leaped forward. The hooded man yelped and tried to intercede, but she bashed his hand away with a strong thrust from her shield. The hooded man staggered backwards, and Anna spun around and drove the point of her sword into the longswordsman’s belly with a savage yell. She felt the sword puncture his leather jerkin and part the chain links of the shirt underneath.

“Two against one, that ain’t fair,” said the longswordsman hoarsely. He smiled and blood dribbled out of his mouth, staining his teeth, lips, and chin.

She sucked in a choking breath, and for a moment time seemed to stop. Frantically, she pulled her sword loose, and he fell to the ground. Her heart was slamming against her ribcage. The surrounding world seemed to spin and blur. Then, suddenly, like a beacon fire in the dark, a thought blazed across her mind. The fight, _the fight!_

Another twang. Everything came into focus. This time, she jerked her shield up to catch the bolt. It stuck harmlessly in the wood of her shield, and she whirled on the man with the long knife.

He was now backing away from her. “You lucky bitch,” he rasped. “If Wat was here, he’d tear you apart. He could take all three of us without breaking a sweat.” He kept walking backwards. “Wat… Wat…! _WAT!”_

Anna charged at him, shield first. The man brought his knife low and wide, and tried to stab her in the side – but it was the wrong side. Her shield caught the blade and reflected the blow, knocking the knife out of his hand. She pushed him against the wall, pinning his right hand down with her shield, and brought her sword edge up to his neck. Though the man was taller than her by a head, he looked positively frightened, his hooded features drawn with terror.

“Please, have mercy…” gasped the hooded man.

She hesitated. Uncertainty washed over her like a dense rain. What am I doing? she thought. A queer sense tugged her eyes down, and she saw the hooded man’s free hand move behind his back…

She drew her blade across his throat in a quick, clumsy motion. A ragged gash followed her blade, and the hooded man’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came forth. She backed away and let him fall to the ground.

Numbness. Her head was blank; barren of emotion or feeling. Finally, a thought spawned: “One left.” She turned on the crossbowman, whose crossbow was loaded and ready to fire – and trained on Martin.

“You little she-demon,” whispered the crossbowman, his face red, his mustache twisting. “You killed my friends.”

Her eyes darted between Martin and the crossbowman. Martin was shaking, his bow was drawn but no arrow was knocked – and the crossbowman was shaking too, his trigger finger quivering against the release. She felt herself tense.

“You killed that woman,” said Anna, trying to keep her voice level. “And you spoke of killing the princess.”

“Now what’s so bad about that? Man’s got to make a living, somehow. A shame, though, since I hear’d she was a pretty young thing. One crossbow bolt is all it would take, though.” The crossbowman smiled wickedly, his teeth nasty and brown. “Least nowways I ain’t got to split no reward. ‘Spose I can thank you for that.” He shaked his crossbow menacingly in Martin’s direction. “Now, you just drop your sword, little girl, and maybe I’ll let your little friend-” He was cut off when a heavy iron poker slammed into his skull from behind. He dropped his crossbow, which clattered against the ground loudly.

Anna dashed forward, grabbed the man’s collar and held her sword up to his neck. He struggled, and she pressed the blade harder against his Adam’s apple. A thin trickle of red appeared. “Who offered the reward?” she demanded. “Who wants the Royal Family dead?”

His eyes were wide now, and his unsmiling lips were twitching. “I- I don’t know! Honest I don’t! Let me go! I ain’t from Arendelle, I ain’t no traitor!”

“Where do you come from?”

The man hesitated, and Anna was about to press him again when Martin spoke. “Anna,” he said shakily. She looked at him. He was pointing at an embroidered sigil on the man’s leather jerkin, partially concealed by his thick clasped cloak. She tore the clasp away roughly with the tip of her sword, and his cloak fell away to reveal the sigil: A black stoat on a field of crimson.

“House Weselton,” she said. Of course, it was just like so many stories. The duke was still bitter that the king of Arendelle confounded him all those years ago. She looked the man in the eyes. “You were sent to kill the king and queen by the Duke of Weselton, weren’t you? But they already died in that storm, so… so you were going to kill the princess, instead?”

“I ain’t know, honest! I – It was a secret! Don’t kill me!” The man was sobbing now.

Don’t kill me. The words rang empty in her ears. What’s one more death tonight? she thought horribly. She wanted to just stab him again and again. But would Joan of Arc do that? Or Erik Ulfton, the former Lord Protector? She watched his jowly cheeks and big mustache become wet with sloppy tears. Pity washed over her. She shoved him, and he fell backwards, sobbing, on the floor.

She turned to walk away, and noticed a man in the doorway – the graybearded man in the gray cloak, the one who had been dozing near the fire in the common room. A moment of sheer panic came on her. What if he was with them? She readied her sword.

The man was not looking at her, though – until suddenly his eyes snapped to hers. “BEHIND YOU!” he shouted.

She spun around as quickly as she could and found the crossbowman lunging at her with a short knife. She slashed his face mid-spin, and he went tumbling to the floor again, face-first.

“My face! You bitch!” he screamed.

She stabbed him in the back of the neck.

When she pulled her sword free, only then did the rank, bloody stink of the room hit her, and she felt like she was going to be sick. Her sword was red, the floor was red. She looked down at her hands and body. More red.

Kristoff dropped the bloody iron poker and looked at his hands. “We’re murderers,” he said hollowly.

“No, not murderers,” said the gray-bearded man, who crossed the room in a few long strides. “Killers, at most. And only the girl, at that.” He nodded curtly at her. “Well fought.”

She did not respond. She only looked at her hands.

The gray-bearded man grunted. “Your first kill, is it? You wouldn’t know it, judging by the way you savaged those men. You are a brutal fighter. You shouldn’t turn your back on a man who just saw you kill his comrades-in-arms, though. Especially if he’s drunk. And an idiot.” His voice was sharp, brittle, and gravelly, like someone hammering at a boulder with a pickaxe.

She closed her eyes. “Yes,” she said vacantly. She opened her eyes again and sheathed her sword and shield.

The gray-bearded man surveyed the room. Anna saw that his face was coarse and wrinkly, and his hair was gray with flecks of white. His eyes were a pale silver and he was missing teeth. His right cheek had a nasty scar on it that ran from the bottom of his eye to his jaw. He spoke: “Boy, gather your arrows. Also take their cloaks – we may need them. And cut the Weselton badge off of that man’s tunic.” He turned to Kristoff. “You, go to the stables. Take two horses and that elk you brought.”

“It’s a reindeer,” protested Kristoff.

The gray-bearded man gave Kristoff a withering stare. “Of course it is. Just get the horses saddled up. You look like you know your way around horses. Kill the horses you don’t take – except for the black one. Do these things, and be quick! What are you waiting for?”

Martin walked up to the longswordsman’s collapsed body and yanked the arrow out of his shoulder. To Anna’s surprise, the arrow was perfectly clean – no blood or any other marks to indicate it had just been lodged in someone just a few seconds ago.

Anna went to leave the room when the gray-bearded man grabbed her by the shoulder. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“To my room,” she responded. “To get my hat.”

He blinked at her. “Your hat,” he said. “Very well. Hurry!”

Anna left the room in haste and turned to go up the stairwell, quickly entering the room that the innkeep showed them. The bed looked so warm and inviting, and it didn’t have any blood on it – but she knew she couldn’t stay. She got her hat and fit it tightly over her head, and looked around to see if she had forgotten anything else. No, that’s good. Best leave as little trace as we can.

She hurried from the room, and in her haste nearly ran into someone in the hallway. “Oops – I’m sorry, I didn’t…” she paused and looked up at the person she ran into. It was the axeman from earlier. The fourth mercenary, whose name was Wat.

She remembered what the hooded man had said about the fourth of their company. “Oh, I just – excuse me, I’ll just be going now.”

“I heard noises from downstairs,” the axeman said, his voice a rattle.

“Really? I heard nothing,” she shrugged, and turned, and sprinted down the hall and down the stairwell, taking the steps three at a time. He knows, she thought. I’m covered in blood.

She paused in the common room and looked over to where the kitchens were. The bell, she remembered. She ran into the kitchen and was met with a maze of ovens, cupboards, and tables, all piled with plates, bowls, and cutlery. The room was large and circular and made of stone bricks. In the middle, she spied a hole in the ceiling, through which dropped a thick rope with a knot at the end.

She weaved through the maze of objects, grabbed the rope, and yanked, again and again. Distantly, she heard a clang, clang, clang; the sound of the bell. Releasing her hold on the rope, she ran out the way she came.

She was halfway to the front door when she heard a roar of outrage from the dining room. The axeman is there. He knows for sure, now. But the woman’s sons, they’ll be waking, and they’ll come down and deal with him. They have to.

Bursting out the front door, she looked around. It was dark, and raining.

“Anna! Over here!” shouted Kristoff, huddled on Sven under one of the sellswords’ cloaks. Next to him was Martin, awkwardly astride a small spotted gray-and-white horse, and also huddled under a cloak. On his other side was the gray-bearded man in his gray cloak, atop a black horse.

Anna ran up to them and inspected the horse they left for her. Golden brown, and tall. She knew very little about riding, truth be told, it being the province of the lordly; but she did know most of the simple aids. Kristoff, the unofficial stable-boy for the town, had tried to teach her, once, but she didn’t think she had a real knack for it. And Sven wasn’t really one for riding.

But Anna did know animals. She put her hand on the horse’s snout, and pet him gently. “Hey there, big guy,” she said. “I’m sorry, but I’m not a very good rider. Do you think you can help me out?”

As if in answer, the horse whinnied and, amazingly, knelt slightly to help her mount him. She put her foot in the stirrup and launched herself into the saddle. How do you sit in one of these things, again? she found herself wondering.

“Here,” said Martin, and he shoved a mottled dark-green and gray cloak at her. She threw it over her shoulders and drew the hood over her head.

“Okay, I’m ready,” she said.

The man moved his horse closer to Anna. “I heard the bell ring. Was that you?”

“Yes,” admitted Anna, uneasily. “The woman’s sons – they’ll deal with that fourth mercenary, won’t they?”

The man did not respond. He turned to Martin, still squirming uncomfortably in his seat. “Do you know anything about riding a horse, boy?”

Martin shook his head.

“It’s easy,” came Kristoff. “Just don’t hold too tight and don’t make any unnecessary movements. Sit like this-”

“That won’t do,” interrupted the man. “We must needs gallop. Come down from there, boy. Come up on my horse – there you go, up now. Hold onto the pommel tight. I won’t let you fall, now.” He rode over to Martin’s horse and produced a long, thin knife from nowhere. He lodged it in the beast’s neck, and it fell over with a croaking whinny. Anna gasped involuntarily, and clapped a hand over her mouth.

There were sounds of tumult coming from the inn: shouting, and loud noises. “Let’s go!” the man said harshly, and took off south down the road. Anna choked down her shock. She put her heels into her horse, and thundered into the gloom after him.

They rode long into the little hours of the night; the relentless patter of rain, the pounding of horse-hooves, and the clanging of Kristoff’s pots and pans were the only sounds that accompanied them as they galloped hard down the Springway. After a time, the man slowed his horse down to a stop, just as they were passing the crest of a hill and into a small wooded section, silent except for the hoots of owls and the nearby gurgling of a river.

The man dismounted, and led his horse off the path and into a small clearing near the road. By then, the rain had died down to a very light drizzle. “We have made good time. This is the southern branch of the Rockwood. We can rest for a while. But not for too long. That fourth sellsword will be coming for us, though he will be slowed, since his horse is dead. For the nonce, anyway.”

That surprised Anna. “But Madam White’s sons!”

The man snorted derisively and spat. “Good lads, I’m sure, but no match for that sellsword, if he is who I think he is. You did them a poor favor by ringing that bell, girl. A deadly favor, in fact.”

“But they’re seven and he’s one,” said Kristoff.

“Too bad that won’t be enough to convince the Bastard of Beast’s Keep.”

“The _what?_ ”

“Enough,” said the man, and he raised his hand. “Let’s rest now while we can.” He looked at Anna and snorted again. “And _you_ should clean yourself up, unless you like the feel of congealed blood between your fingers. Wouldn’t be the first young warrior I met who did. Nor the last.”

She clenched her fists, still sticky with blood; though the rain had seen some to that, blood stains were clearly visible. “I don’t like the feel of blood.”

“As you say. Then you should wash up. Especially your sword.” He pointed a crabbed finger into the woods. “There’s a river near here. A vassal of the Mud River. Just don’t stray too far. And don’t kill anything, if you can help it.”

“Who are you?” said Anna hotly. “Why should I do what you say?”

The man stared at her for half a moment before turning to snap at Martin. “Boy. Go gather some kindling. Anything will do, if it’s dry. As like there’s none to be found with this rain, but might as well try.”

Martin gaped for a moment, looking between Anna and the man. “Sorry, ser, erm – m’lord – erm, but, uhm,” he jerked his head in Anna’s direction. “I’m her squire.”

That seemed to amuse the man. “Oh, really? She’s a knight, is she?”

“She m-might as well be,” said Martin, in a tone that sloshed with unease.

The man barked a short laugh. “Fine, then. Girl, tell your squire to fetch some kindling.”

“Do as he says, Martin,” said Anna, and stalked off into the woods, towards the sound of moving water.

She walked for about a minute before she came to a clear, small river, about six feet across and flowing quickly. The rain had stopped, and the moon was out now, licking the running water with sheets of white light.

She knelt by the riverside and drew out Autumn, the blade alternately silver and brownish-red in the light of the moon. She was reminded of just two nights ago, when she stood by the berry bush brook and showed her sword to the Wise Troll. The look on his face; the look on Astrid’s face; the look in the longswordsman’s eyes as the light of life left them… Her stomach lurched.

Gently, she set the sword down in the soft black sand of the riverbank. She lowered her head into her hands, and cried softly.

“Oh, gods, what have I done?” she sobbed. She knew, though. She knew that knights never really fought monsters or rescued the helpless. They only killed. “What have I done?” she repeated, quietly.

“What have you done?” came a soft, sweet voice. For a second it sounded like Astrid, but – no. It was calmer. Lighter. Whispery but clear. Anna turned her head up and looked around, startled.

Across the river, an enormous white wolf with bright blue eyes was sitting on the bank, her paws resting lightly just at the water’s edge. She was so huge that, even while sitting, her shoulders rose twice as high as Anna’s kneeling head. Anna felt her eyes widen. “A wolf!” she said, breathless.

“Yes,” said the wolf. She flashed her teeth. “No one has prayed in these woods since… well. For a long time.”

“Prayed?” repeated Anna. “I wasn’t praying, I was just…” Her voice trailed off.

A thin silence stretched between them. Anna was looking into the wolf's eyes, blue and cold. “You are not like most humans,” observed the wolf. “The smell of the forest is strong on you.”

For several seconds, Anna didn’t know what to say. “I was raised in the woods,” she said finally. “By trolls.”

“Just so,” said the wolf.

Anna’s eyes were transfixed on the wolf. Her white fur seemed platinum in the moonlight, and her blue eyes were cold and bright. Anna felt she ought to be terrified, but somehow the wolf gave her a strange sense of calm. Before she knew it, her mouth was moving. “I killed someone,” said Anna. “Three people.”

“Just so,” said the wolf. “I felt it. I see it now – it blackens your soul.”

Anna swallowed a lump. “Is that it?” she whispered. “Am I wicked?”

The wolf bared her teeth in what must have been a smile. “Are you?”

“I… I don’t know.”

The wolf waved its bushy white tail from side to side. “Were the men you killed wicked?”

“Ye- maybe. I don’t know.”

“Then why did you kill them?”

Anna hesitated. “They spoke- they were plotting to kill the princess.”

The wolf cocked her head. “And what is she to you?”

That threw Anna for a loop. For a second her mind froze, her thoughts congealing into an unknowable mess. Her head throbbed uncomfortably. “My... liege lord,” she said, after a pause.

“Is that so?” The wolf smiled again. “How very human of you.”

Anna felt her face warm up. “She is my liege, and… her parents died. Only recently. Those men were speaking of a plot to kill them, too. I couldn’t just let them… who knows who else they might have killed?”

“Or whom else _you_ might _yet_ kill? Everybody dies, Anna, Sword of Autumn,” said the wolf.

Anna felt a pinch at her heart. “How do you know my name?”

“You are in my forest. I know many things about you. And I know we will meet again.” The wolf turned its head upwards to look at the moon. “Everybody dies, Anna, Sword of Autumn. The only difference is in the manner and choosing of our deaths.”

Death. The word pounded through her head like a running elk, all meaning seeming to flit away from it. Just another word. A sound in the void.

“Are you going to kill me?” asked Anna softly.

The wolf’s eyes bored into Anna’s with an intense gaze. The entire forest seemed to fill with an eerie blue glow. “Wash your hands. You have slain three evil men tonight.” There was a distant howl, and the wolf’s head shifted slightly. A cool breeze lifted the air. “Perhaps... Perhaps you will slay a fourth. Though my blood runs in his veins, there is a darkness in his heart of hearts.” The glow faded, but the white wolf remained. “I ask you a favor, Sword of Autumn. From henceforth, when you take a life, say a prayer over their body, in my name. Will you do this?”

“Yes,” said Anna, her mouth dry. “Though I do not know your name. What is it?”

“My name?” The wolf grinned and stood, towering. She said, “I am Aren,” and slid between the moonbeams and vanished.

 


	9. Crystalwater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. This was a fun chapter to do, and we're finally getting somewhere. Now, I just wanted to say that, even though this story has its hooks in me, I'm anything but a professional writer. As such, any helpful advice or criticism is really appreciated. Thanks as always for your reviews and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

After the wolf disappeared, Anna sat in silence for several long moments. She looked at the surface of the river, clear and fine beneath the starry sky. Gingerly, she inserted her hands into the flowing water, and rinsed the blood from them. She had to scrub with her fingernails to get at the stains, but when it was finished with her hands looked clean.

She looked at her hands. Small, but rough – tough, actually, beaten with callouses, the product of years of training. Years of training, for this. She remembered the first day she ever practiced with an actual metal blade. She had tired herself out. She was sitting on a log in Astrid’s back yard when her teacher came up to her and looked her in the eyes.

“Remember, Anna, a sword is not a toy, but a burden,” Astrid had said. “Swords do not save lives, they take lives.”

Anna remembered frowning at that. “Well, what’s the point, then?”

“Because _you_ can save lives, but only you. The sword can’t do that for you. It can’t make you know when and where to take a life, it can’t make you know what you have to do to save one either. All of that comes from you. A weapon is a tool of destruction and, like all tools, depends on its wielder for guidance.”

Anna looked at Autumn, still laying in the sand. Have I guided you wrong? she thought, and willed the blade to give her an answer.

There was none.

She washed the sword in the river, and did what she could with her clothes and shield, and then made her way back to the clearing. She heard the howl of a wolf fill the night air, and she shivered.

The gray-bearded man was crouched over a pile of burning kindling that was more smoke than fire. Martin was watching him blow at the leaves and stoke the flames with glazed eyes. Kristoff sat next to Sven, his face quiet and troubled as the brown beast nuzzled him comfortingly.

The man looked up as he heard Anna enter the clearing. “Ah, girl, you're back. And cleaner, I see.” His eyes went to the side of her head, and an eyebrow rose. He stood up out of his kneeling position with a grunt. “Your ear. Doesn’t that hurt?”

“My… ear?” said Anna, and her hand went up to her right ear. It came away red and sticky.

“You’ve been riding like that all night?” said the man.

“I just… I didn’t notice it,” said Anna.

The man snorted. “Tough girl. Just a scratch, though. A graze. You should wrap it up so it doesn’t get touched by sickness. And you should get some rest. Not very long. All of you should. I’ll take the first watch.”

Anna narrowed her eyes. “No. I'll take first watch.”

The man blinked his eyes at her, and then barked a laugh. “Ha. Girl, if I wanted you dead, you’d already be dead.”

“Would I? You don't have any weapons.”

“That you can see,” he corrected sharply. “Dangerous to make assumptions, girl.”

“I have a name, you know,” said Anna. “It's Anna.”

The man nodded. “So you do. I as well. I am called Ser Magnus. Pleased to make your acquaintance, and all that. Now, enough talk. You must needs sleep.”

“Ser Magnus?” repeated Anna. “Are you a knight, then?”

Ser Magnus grunted. “Apparently.”

This information sat right with her, and the tension flooded out of her body. A knight – that boded well. She relaxed and nodded. “First watch is yours,” she said.

Ser Magnus grinned crookedly. “Thanks for the permission.”

The fire was still smoking by the time Anna rolled up in her mossroll, ear freshly bandaged in a white linen wrap (which, Kristoff complained, would be stained by the blood); and Kristoff and Martin were laying in their own bedrolls. Though she was tired, sleep would not come to her, and every time she closed her eyes she saw the men in the inn, or the white wolf.

The white wolf. “Aren,”she had called herself. Thinking back on it, she was almost convinced she had simply imagined the whole thing. The wolf was huge – impossibly so. She knew what Anders would say:“You were exhausted, so your mind was making things up.”

On the other hand, Oaken wouldn’t be so skeptical.

She lay unsleeping for what felt like hours, and then abruptly got up and wriggled out of the mossroll. Kristoff’s snores were clearly audible. She looked over at the low-burning fire and saw Ser Magnus huddled under his cloak. She went over to him and sat by the fire.

He eyed her. “You should be getting some sleep,” he said in a resigned tone.

“Sleep wouldn’t come,” Anna replied.

The man said nothing, his eyes focusing again on the fire. She also looked into the flames, the orange snake-tongues writhing through the sticks and kindling, slapping the sides of the one damp and petty log that refused to burn properly.

“I was just thinking about stories,” said Anna. “About the gods.” She stopped. The man didn’t reply or seem to give any indication that he heard her. She went on, anyway. “Specifically this one that I knew… about a white wolf that called herself Aren.”

He broke his eyes away from the glow to stare at her. “A funny thing to know a story about. How did it go?”

She took a deep breath before speaking. The air tasted like smoke and chill. “A girl killed three murderers and went to a stream to wash her sword. The wolf appeared and told the girl to wash her hands and pray whenever she killed again.”

He looked at her for a long time. “Interesting,” he said. “I knew a different story about the wolf called Aren.” He halted, and for a long moment Anna wasn’t sure if he would continue, until his gaze wandered back to the flickering red and he began to speak.

“A long, long time ago, there was a valley. A small valley. In the valley, no men ruled, only a white wolf. It was her valley, and the wolf let no man enter. One day, a brave woman came to the wolf and demanded that she share her valley with all humans. The wolf refused, and so the woman fought her. They fought for a moon’s turn, and at the end of the fight, they were both too exhausted to continue. Finally, the wolf agreed to give the valley to the woman, but only if the woman would rule in the wolf’s name.”

“Aren,” said Anna.

Ser Magnus nodded. “In those days, the word for valley was ‘dale.’ The woman took the name ‘Aren’ for her own, and became known as ruler of the dale.” Ser Magnus’ eyes glinted. “Hence, Arendale.”

“Arendelle.”

Ser Magnus shrugged. “Times, pronunciations change.”

“I haven’t heard that story before,” said Anna.

“Few have,” said Ser Magnus. “My brother told it to me. He heard it from the king.”

“Who is your brother?” asked Anna.

Ser Magnus’ expression hardened. “You may know him as Lord Erik Ulfton.”

“The former Lord Protector?” Anna felt a pang.

“The same.”

“I’m… sorry for your loss.”

“Me, too.”

“Were you close?”

He gave her an odd look. “In a manner of speaking. We lived in the same castle.”

“The Arenborg?” exclaimed Anna with mild surprise.

“That’s the one,” said Ser Magnus. “I am castellan there.”

“Castellan?” repeated Anna. One word among many that Anders had taught her. “Charged with the martial affairs and defense of the castle?”

“Indeed,” said Ser Magnus. “Though I’m a bit far from Crystalwater to be doing that now. And on an errand, as it were.”

“What kind of errand?” asked Anna, and then a terrible thought came to mind. “Am I under arrest? For murder? Ser, I mean – I didn’t mean to kill anyone. They were committing treason, and treason is punishable by death!”

Ser Magnus chuckled darkly. “Punishable by death, for sure – but by the king’s men, not little girls from the sticks.”

Anna’s stomach clenched. “So am I… under arrest, then?”

Ser Magnus shot her a doleful glare. “No. For one thing, I still have an urgent task to complete.”

“Where are you taking us, then?”

“I’m taking you to Vardale. Where you go from there is your own lookout. For another thing, you’ve done me a favor by dispatching three of those men on your own.”

“I wasn’t on my own,” said Anna. “And what do you mean I’ve done you a ‘favor’?”

Ser Magnus’ eyes narrowed, and he scratched his gray beard. “Don’t you think those men were a bit far north to be working on assassinating the Princess? No, Anna, I believe I was their target. It was only a matter of time before they recognized me.”

“But… they said…”

“Maybe they planned to kill the princess later. But I was their target. Lucky for them, I am on my own, far away from any friends, on a doomed mission. Unlucky for them, you came by.” He scratched his scar impatiently. “Unlucky for us, the fourth sellsword still lives.” A nighttime howl hit the air again, and the hairs on Anna’s neck shivered.

“What is this ‘task’?” asked Anna.

Ser Magnus snorted. “Just something my brother asked of me. Call it a last request. And I think he knew-” He stopped suddenly, his head perking up. He sat in that alert position for several moments before he slumped his shoulders and looked back down into the fire.

“What’s wrong?”

The knight said nothing, his fingers picking at the clasp on his cloak – which, Anna could now see, was a dull iron fashion of a hawk in mid-dive.

“Well,” Anna said into the growing silence, “thank you for your help.”

Ser Magnus nodded curtly, but did not look at her. “And thank you for yours. I don’t know what kind of peasant girl from the sticks kills three battle-hardened sellswords without suffering a scratch.” His eyes flashed keenly. “Where are you from, anyway? The Up-And-Downs? Are you perhaps a wildwoman from the barrowings? No –you’re too well-dressed for that.”

Anna frowned. “I’m from Burrowstown.”

He blinked at her, his brows knitting in confusion. “You are from Burrowstown?”

“Yes,” said Anna.

“And your name… is Anna?”

“Yes,” said Anna again, more uneasily this time, and briefly she wondered if news of her deeds had traveled ahead of her on the road. But no – that was ludicrous. It hadn’t been that long yet, and there was no way this man had heard anything while he was at the Fat Rooster.

In a quick motion, the knight crouched and moved around the fire over to her. He was close now, and his silver eyes were looking into hers with a befuddled, searching expression, his long gray beard twitching all the while.

“Anna… from Burrowstown?” he asked again, his voice now sounding hoarse, his eyes wide and wild.

A loud howl blasted through the clearing, and the man jumped to his feet with a start, each hand producing a long thin shortsword from somewhere in his tangle of cloak. Anna fell backwards, startled, and also scrambled to her feet. Martin turned in his bedroll, and Kristoff stopped snoring.

“What was that?” said Anna.

“The fourth sellsword,” breathed Ser Magnus. “Draw your sword, girl – now.”

“Why?” said Anna – and then she saw why.

In the shadows at the edge of the clearing, two golden eyes were peering out at her, lost in a sea of darkness. Slowly, they crept forward into the light, the snout and head of an enormous gray wolf becoming illuminated. Still forward it came, but the rest of the body was not like a wolf’s at all – it was huge, and lean, like some muscular bear, all covered with mottled gray-and-black fur. Its paws were large, furry hands, with long, sharp claws at the end of each finger. The wolf-thing smiled, and its teeth seemed iridescent, lit orange by the glow of the fire.

Anna fumbled at her sword hilt, and pulled Autumn out of its scabbard after a struggle. She put on her shield and assumed a ready stance.

“You killed my horse,” the beast growled. Its deep voice rumbled around the clearing like a ton of falling rocks.

“It doesn’t seem to have mattered much,” said Ser Magnus.

“I followed the scent of blood.” The beast licked its chops with a rough pink tongue, and eyed Anna’s bandaged ear.

“A mean feat for Wat, the Bastard of Beast’s Keep, I’m sure,” said Ser Magnus.

The beast snarled and bared its teeth at the knight. “Watch your mouth, swine. I heard you tell the child who you are.” He made a gasping, clicking, guttural sound. It sounded oddly like laughter. “You were right under our noses. Even mine. If Lyam were alive, he'd be embarrassed as could be. Too bad he’s dead.”

“You can thank the child for that,” said Ser Magnus. “She slew all three of your foul comrades. Didn’t even break a sweat, from the look of it.”

The beast looked at Anna, briefly, before turning back to Ser Magnus. “We looked for you in Crystalwater. You were nowhere to be found the day the ship went down. We were certain you’d be among the mourners.”

“My brother had a final request of me.”

The beast growled. “A Royal Guardsman and the castellan of the Arenborg, dispatched just days before the royal carrack sank beneath a mysterious gale at sea. Surely your place was with the princess, in these trying times?”

Ser Magnus ground his teeth. “It still is.”

“No,” said the beast. “Now your place is here. I will kill you and these younglings, and feast on your flesh. I am hungry. That woman’s sons were mostly gristle. I will take your head to my prince. And _then_ I will kill your princess.”

“What did the duke offer you?” asked Ser Magnus. “The Beast’s Keep? You have no right to it.”

The beast snarled. “The Keep is MINE! My father was a foolish romantic, and my half-brother, too! The barrowings cannot, _should not_ , be ruled by such weak stuff. The strong must rule! That is how it is in Arendelle! In the world! I will take what I want _by force!_ ”

“You can try,” said Ser Magnus, and he lifted his blades, “but you will need to kill me, first.”

The beast roared and leaped at Ser Magnus, fangs and claws bared. The old man sidestepped the leap and slashed at the beast’s face and arms with his two swords. He gashed the monster, but the beast was unperturbed by the knight’s attacks, and threw out a huge claw that ripped the air and caught Ser Magnus on the arm.

The sound of the roar fully woke Martin and Kristoff, at first groggy and then terrified. “Martin!” said Anna, the panic clear in her voice. “Get your arrows. Kristoff, stay back!”

“What is that thing?” yelled Kristoff.

“Kristoff! Just stay back!” she shouted, and stepped closer to the beast, shield raised and sword at the ready.

Ser Magnus was constantly on the retreat, forced to slash and sidestep as the beast’s relentless attacks came and came. Anna jumped in from behind, stabbing with her blade. She jabbed the monster, and he whirled on her with a roar, claws swiping out at her face. She blocked with her shield, and the sound of scratching wood nearly deafened her.

The knight took the opportunity to launch a flank attack of his own, but the beast spun again and jabbed Ser Magnus in the chest, slashing down across his belly, a huge red gash following the trace of the monster’s claws. Ser Magnus staggered and dropped both swords and the beast moved closer.

“No!” yelled Anna, and she stabbed again, jabbing Autumn deep into the beast’s back. He bucked, and she stumbled and fell, losing her grip on her sword. She looked up, dazed – her sword still lodged in the beast’s back.

But the monster paid Autumn no mind. The beast lowered its head and its jaws clamped down on Ser Magnus’ shoulder with a bone-crunching sound, the knight screaming in agony.

Anna lurched to her feet and jumped on the beast’s back, scrambling over his shoulders and locking her arms around his monstrous neck. The beast bucked again, and threw her across the clearing. She felt herself hit a tree, and she collapsed on the ground, dazed.

The beast had stopped attacking Ser Magnus now. She could see him stalking over to her, molten gold eyes boiling with anger. “I will kill you now,” those eyes said. Suddenly there was a flash of fire, and Kristoff jumped in front of her, waving a burning branch in the beast’s face. The monster backed away from the flaming stick, only a step or two, paws raised to shield its eyes from the blaze.

“Martin, now!” yelled Kristoff.

A terrifying shriek shattered the air, and Anna saw a silver arrow sticking out of the beast’s neck. He recoiled and collapsed on the ground, writhing. “It burns!” he roared in a voice that shook the leaves of all the nearby trees.

“Stay away from my master!” shouted Martin, his voice higher than ever.

Anna forced herself onto her legs, though they wobbled and her head throbbed. She limped over to the beast, now lying on the ground in a huddled mass. Occasionally, one of the beast’s paws would attempt to swat the arrow, but it was to no avail. The beast was well and stuck, and whimpering in pain.

Anna pulled Autumn out of the beast’s back, and it moaned pathetically.

“Cut off its head,” rasped Ser Magnus.

Anna looked at her sword and looked at the beast. “How?”

“Just hack at its neck,” spat the knight. “Just hack.”

“That’s cruel.”

“That’s justice. It is the only way to kill a beastman.”

Anna swallowed and brought her sword up. The beast's eyes swiveled up at her, two pale golden orbs burning with hatred. Autumn flashed the air, and parted the neck with a soft, slight swish. The head rolled on the ground.

“Oh, gods,” said Kristoff with a dry retch, and he turned away, throwing the burning branch back into the firepit.

Gingerly, Anna knelt down before the dead animal, and placed Autumn’s tip in the dirt. She closed her eyes. “In the name of Aren, I slay thee,” she whispered to the beast’s head.

Ser Magnus groaned, and Anna realized with a start that he was very seriously injured, and lying on the ground next to a short pine tree. Anna went over to him and knelt at his side.

He was bleeding profusely from a large gash in his torso, and the clothing around his neck and shoulder was torn and ripped, a black wound weeping from the deep bite marks left by the beast. “Oh my gosh,” said Anna, “you’re…”

“Dying,” finished Ser Magnus. He winced in pain and pulled himself up so that he lay against the pine.

“Wounded,” said Anna. “You’re not dead yet.”

The knight laughed humorlessly. “A beastman bite will fester and kill as a sure thing. Unless you happen to have a poultice made from green porcupine spines?”

“No,” said Anna miserably, and the knight laughed again.

Martin approached, and Anna heard him gasp. “Oh, no- Ser Magnus!”

The knight’s eyes fluttered. He reached out a hand, as if he was grasping for something. Anna took it and held it in both of hers. His eyes shifted to her. He held her in his eyes for several moments, and a gleam filled his face, the corner of his mouth tugging up.

“Yes… I… I see it now…” he whispered, and passed out.

He flitted into and out of consciousness several times over the next few hours, each brief moment of lucidity more delirious than the last, and Anna tried to stay awake in case there was anything she could do to ease his passage. Martin urged her to sleep, but she didn’t want to. This was partly her fault. If I had just been faster, she thought, _stronger_ … Her lids grew heavy. Martin brought her the mossroll, and she lay on it. Only for a few moments…

When sleep took her, she was in the atrium, the red velvet rushes and their golden designs spreading out in all directions. Wide stairs fell down from the huge double doors that marked the entryway to the ballroom.

“Do you really have to go?” she asked. They smiled at her, and her father nodded slightly.

“It’ll only be for a couple weeks,” he said. “I’ll bring you back something nice.”

She cast her eyes to the floor. Her mother spoke, “Oh, Elsa, don’t be so glum. We’ll be back before you know it.” If only, mother.

She pulled her into a hug, and broke it off only at length. “We love you, Elsa, sweetheart.”

Go on. Say,“I love you, too.” But the words didn’t come. “A couple weeks,” she said, instead, and sighed heavily. “Okay. I think I can manage.”

“Atta girl,” said her father, chuckling. He shouted over his shoulder. “Erik, my man, let’s away! What is taking you so long?”

“Yes, Your Grace. I was merely having a word with my brother.” The white-haired Lord Ulfton nodded curtly in her direction as he strode up to them. “Princess Elsa. You are as lovely as ever. Rare to see you out of the library.”

She curtsied congenially to him. “And you are looking quite handsome, my good Lord Protector.”

He smiled, and the king tapped his shoulder. “Your brother?” asked the king.

“Yes, Your Grace. I… mayhap it would be best to discuss this more privily.”

“You think so? Then we shall do so. Later, however! Come, Ideen, the royal carrack won’t wait forever!” He laughed heartily, hugged his daughter, bid her a final goodbye, and left for the last time ever.

After the doors closed, she turned and walked up the stairs. The ballroom.

Ser Magnus appeared, and startled her. “Oh!” she exclaimed, and clapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, my good Ser Magnus, you merely startled me, is all.”

“Please, Your Grace, the error is all mine. I only wondered if we might have a word?”

She blinked at him. “Of course. Whatever is the matter?”

He hesitated. “I only wondered if… Gods, it sounds absurd, but if you knew if perhaps there was some princess I should be protecting that I don’t know about.”

A beat. “You mean, other than myself?”

“Yes.”

Crack. She shot him a painted smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, good Ser. Is this some humorous jape? I’m afraid you have the advantage over me.”

He ground his teeth. “My brother’s been playing me for a fool again. Well, I won’t have it, this time.”

She looked at him carefully. “Ser, perhaps you had better explain?”

“I would rather not waste Your Grace’s time. Suffice it to say, your Lord Protector must find it amusing to send your castellan about on wild goose chases.”

She forced a laugh. “Oh, but that does sound amusing! Forgive me for laughing, Ser Magnus. I do hope your chase is merry.”

He gave her a begrudging smile. “Well, I’ll make the best of it, my princess. I’m sorry for startling you.” He bowed and took his leave.

She did not enter the ballroom. If it was a jape, it was a cruel one. She would have words with the Lord Protector when he got back. But he won’t come back. They _never_ do. She hurried to the library. Anything to drown out the thoughts, the Anna, Anna, Anna…

Anna awoke to the sound of Ser Magnus hoarsely rasping her name. “Anna, Anna, Anna, come here.” She shot up like a rod. How long had she been asleep? The morning sun was dazzling the sky. She crawled over to Ser Magnus, still propped up against the trunk of the pine tree. His eyes were wild, his face gray; he seemed to have aged several years in mere hours.

“Anna,” he said when she was close to him. He extended two trembling hands and clasped hers. “The sickness takes me…”

“No,” said Anna. “It’ll pass.”

“Do not be foolish. Listen to me. There is no time.” He sucked in a rattling breath. “You must go, Anna.”

“Go where?”

“Stop talking, please, just listen. You must go. You must go to her. She is in danger. You must…” He stopped to cough wetly, and regained his breath with several long wheezes. “Go to the princess. Protect her. She is in danger.” He was trembling violently now. “There is money in my purse. The silver from those sellswords. Take it and go to Crystalwater.” He coughed again. “You must protect her! The princess! Swear to me you will! Swear you will protect _Princess Elsa!_ _”_

* * *

 

“There it is!” exclaimed Martin, just as the city came into view.

Crystalwater was, functionally, a very new city, although its heritage was very old. After King Heimdal the Torch burnt the city down to confound pillaging South Islanders, he rebuilt it to be better than ever with the victory gold from the war. It was a marvel of architecture: ivory spires shot up all over, tall blue and gold buildings of every shape and size comprised everything from lesser residences to the grander manors. The whole city, impossibly huge as it was, was surrounded by high, thick walls of bright white stone. Hills throughout the city hosted grand structures. There were the Crystal Towers, also called the Unburnt Towers – an ancient fort of nevermeltice, allegedly put down by the Ice Queen herself. There was the Grand Merchant’s Manor, the seat of the Hugoss family, who owned so many ships they controlled the lion’s share of trade into and out of the city. There was the Black Temple, where the godswives dwelt and worshipped the southern gods – apparently very popular in Crystalwater, though neither Anna, nor Martin, nor Kristoff had ever heard anything about them.

But more impressive than any of these was the castle at the city’s edge, half in the fjord and half on the land, with tremendous cerulean walls and a high-towered blue-and-white keep that dwarfed the entire rest of the city: the Arenborg, the seat of power, the house of the throne of Arendelle.

They had made good time, resting very little and pushing their steeds when they could. Martin rode on Sven with Kristoff, the reindeer’s mild temperament proving an ample cure for Martin’s uneasy riding style. Five and a half days it took to get to Crystalwater. This was even after spending a night in Vardale, where the sellswords’ silver afforded them good lodging and baths, and taking the time to bury Ser Magnus’ body back in the Rockwood.

Though she had not killed him, she had said a prayer over his body in Aren’s name. That was how she knew he must be buried. Kristoff objected, at first, but came around soon enough. Finding dirt soft enough to dig through was another matter, though. They moved his body to the stream and dug him a shallow grave there. She marked it with three big river stones, all perfectly smooth.

The body of the beast they simply left in the clearing. Food for crows. Nothing told her to bury him. Let him be eaten by his fellow-travelers, she thought. I hope some wolves have a bite.

Judging by the throng when they queued up at the city gates, Anna guessed that she wasn’t the only person from the country who had come to see the princess crowned. The crowd wasn’t moving, and none were on horse. Slowly she directed her mount through the crowd until she reached the gate, with Kristoff and Martin close behind.

A tall man in bleached leather and a long, blue jacket slashed with gold and black was standing by the gate. He was leaning against a long halberd, and when he saw them approach, moved it sideways to block their going through. “Quota,” he called up to Anna. “No entry unless you can pay the toll.”

“How much?”

“Twenty silver pieces.”

She frowned. The bag they had collected from Ser Magnus was just shy of threescore silver pieces. A good amount, but they lost twelve in Vardale, and this toll was almost half of what remained.

“That’s highway robbery,” said Kristoff, rearing up besides Anna.

“It’s to help pay for the coronation. The crown collects its due.”

“Do you barter?” asked Anna.

“No. Don’t waste my time.”

“You mentioned a quota. How long is the wait until we can enter for free?”

He shrugged. “Beats me.”

Scowling, she produced the coin purse and counted out twenty silver pieces. The man collected them in a huge satchel, counting them out one by one as he did. “This is only eighteen.”

“Like hell it is,” said Kristoff. “Can’t you count, you ignorant buffoon?”

“Twenty is the toll,” said the guard.

Anna produced another two silver pieces. The guard lifted his spear, and the three proceeded into the city.

“The nerve of that man,” swore Kristoff once they were passed through the gate. “I wonder if he does that to everyone he passes through.”

Anna was inspecting the remaining silver. “We have about twenty pieces left. Enough for a few nights’ lodging at a cheap inn.” She stowed the pouch and turned to take in the city.

The streets were wellcobbled with white stone, lined on all sides with buildings both squat and tall, and many-branched trees hung all over with colorful drapery. People young and old pushed carts filled with clams or turnips around the streets, shouting out the cost of their wares, and stalls that lined the alleys and thoroughfares saw constant patronage.

The people, in particular, were a peculiar sight. Many wore finely embroidered robes, cloaks, and tunics, with many bright colors and elaborate details, and some more elegant-looking individuals had fingers stuffed with rings and wore thick chains of jewels around their necks. There was also a good deal of homespun clothing as well, but even the most drab had some color to it. Blue was the most popular color by far, especially azure.

From most of the buildings and the occasional guardhouse, pennants and flags waved in the breeze, flying blue and white and bearing the royal standard of Arendelle. Streamers, decorations, and tinsel-decorated poles were all over the place, especially in the common areas, where people gathered to watch others sing and jape about.

A horse cart passed by, and from the back of the cart a group of women in blue-and-gold summer dresses waved handkerchiefs at passersby. “Tomorrow, tomorrow!” they cried. “Tomorrow is coronation day!”

The three of them made their slow, meandering way through town, unburdened by any destination. Anna was overwhelmed by all the festivities. Though the trolls were no strangers to hard play, there was an undeniable energy here. The city had a pulse, quick-beating, and Anna could feel it.

They went through the docks district, which, Anna estimated, by itself had to be twice as large as Burrowstown. She had never seen a boat in person before, and the sight of them surprised her a great deal. A salty, rank smell came from the pier, and the docks were busy with men hauling nets filled with fish and loading and unloading the galleys with crates of goods.

Some boats looked more ornate than the others, or were slightly different in other ways, and Anna noticed these were located closer to the castle as well. They flew different colors, had bolder mastheads. One ship had sails that were a kaleidoscope of colors, a long, low hull, and a masthead that looked like a serpent with a human skull for a head. Anna craned her neck to get a better look: the people on board had tinted, tanned skin, and some wore tall, ornate headresses made of multicolored feathers, and long, colorful jackets of emerald green and scarlet red; the rest wore breezy white tunics and white breeches. One portly man in a fabulous headdress even had strange apparel on his face: two round glass lenses mounted in a thin golden frame that sat on his nose and wrapped around his ears. He was shouting orders to the crew, but Anna couldn’t understand a word he said.

The next ship over had a wide, thick hull, no doubt good for holding lots of trade goods. It wasn’t seeing as much activity as the previous vessel, but Anna did notice the flag flying from the top of its mast: a black stoat on a field of red. _Weasel-town_ , she thought bitterly, and kicked her horse into a trot to pass by more quickly.

When they passed out of the docks district, Anna realized they were quite close to the castle now. They ascended a short rise that emptied out into an enormous town square with a fountain in the middle. People were gathered around the fountain, drawing water out of it, talking. The place was bedecked in streamers and even flowers, and across the square, a squat gray gatehouse sat at the short bridge that led to the main gate of the Arenborg.

If the Arenborg was impressive from afar, up close it was positively magnificent. The walls were huge, and even so, behind them the keeps and towers jutted into the sky. From every tall point on the castle, the six-pointed snowflake of Arendelle waved in the cool summer breeze. At the center of the whole thing, one great tower spiked high into the air, tall and proud, dwarfing the surrounding edifice, its windows enormous and colored, though at a distance Anna could not make out the details. Old, that tower seemed, and invulnerable.

As they crossed the square, they came upon a lively demonstration near the gatehouse. A squat man with a balding pate and ginger sideburns was speaking boomingly to a small crowd. It was indistinct from afar, so Anna beckoned to Martin and Kristoff and moved in closer.

“As is Arendelle tradition, on the coronation day, Her Majesty will host a tournament of great knights from all over the kingdom. A dueling tournament! And, as is tradition, the Queen will grant the winner one wish, will fulfill any request that he might have, so long as it is in her power to grant it!”

Anna gasped audibly, and Kristoff noticed. “Oh no, what are you thinking, feistypants?”

“Quiet,” she shushed him, because the man was still talking.

“I have gathered you today to give you this chance to register for this tournament. You are among the most esteemed knights of Her Majesty’s most esteemed guests, and you will honor us with your competition!”

A ragged cheer came from the small crowd, and Anna looked at them and noticed that they were all dressed finely, and not at all alike – each of them wearing doublets and vests and cloaks and jerkins with different standards, designs, and colors. A few were even dressed in armor, both chain and plate mail.

The man stepped down from the podium, and the crowd bustled up to the large stall behind him, where several dour-looking clerks presided over the registration.

Anna turned to her companions. “A tournament!” she told them. “And did you hear that about the prize?”

“What kind of wish can a queen even grant?” scoffed Kristoff. “She’s not like a djinni or anything.”

“Gold?” offered Martin. “Maybe titles? A knighthood?”

Kristoff snorted. “Well, it doesn’t matter. The tournament is for _knights only._ And you’re not a knight.”

“She is so!” said Martin heatedly. “Just… it isn’t official. Yet.”

“Good luck convincing _them_ with that argument,” said Kristoff.

“She could be a knight when she wins the tournament. That could be her wish!”

Kristoff looked at Martin incredulously. “Are you even listening to yourself? How is she going to join in the first place?”

“Kristoff, leave him be,” snapped Anna. “It was just an idle fancy, that’s all.”

But it wasn’t. Her mind was racing in spite of the words she spoke. _Any request_ _…_ The possibilities were wild, even as Kristoff’s cynicism leached in. Not _any_ request, surely. But others…

Anna patted Autumn’s hilt for luck. “We should put up our horses while we’re in the city,” she said. “No doubt we must seem ungainly trotting about like lords.”

“I saw some stables near the docks,” said Kristoff. “Give me some silver and I’ll take care of it.”

Anna nodded and dismounted her horse. “Good, thanks. Martin and I will wait here in the square for you.”

“You had best find some lodging for us,” Kristoff warned. Anna only smiled at him, gave him some silver, and he walked off, Anna’s horse and Sven in tow.

Anna watched him go, then said to Martin “Come, let’s see what the requirements are for registering.” The boy’s eyes lit up, and he nodded. She led him into the small gathering near the large stall, and walked up to one of the clerks.

“Excuse me,” she said; and the man paid her no attention, hand scribbling away at a piece of parchment. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Excuse me” she said, more loudly this time.

The man’s head shot up. He had a long hook nose, and thinning brown hair, and a tiny mouth. A scraggly beard painted his chin. “Yes? What is it?” He sounded like wool being wrung dry and then stretched.

She hesitated for a moment. “I want to join the tournament.”

His eyes shot wide. “ _You?_ ” he squawked.

She stuck out her chin and nodded.

His mouth opened and closed for a few moments before he shooed her away with his off-hand. “What nonsense. You are a girl, a child! Women cannot compete in the lists, especially not peasant women.”

That took Anna by surprise. “Why not?”

“Why n- _Why not?_ You might as well ask why the sun comes up in the morning, or why plants don’t grow in the barrowings. Now, go away, or else I’ll call the guards.” His head snapped back down to his parchment, where he resumed scribbling.

Seething, Anna stepped well away from the table and crossed her arms. She glared at Martin for a few moments, even though it was not him she was mad at – she only felt like glaring.

“If it’s any consolation,” Martin started, “they probably wouldn’t have accepted me either. Because, you know, of our lowborn status.” He shrugged meekly.

“There has to be a way,” said Anna, and she meditated in silence.

Eventually, Kristoff returned and said he had stabled up the horse and Sven. “What’s the damage?” asked Anna. “One silver piece,” said Kristoff, “and the rest of our carrots.” Anna nodded approvingly.

“Did you find us an inn?” asked Kristoff. “Preferably a cheap one. But not _too_ cheap. No fleas in the beds would be nice. Also, beds would be nice.”

“No,” admitted Anna, and her eyes involuntarily flicked over to the large stall.

“Wait,” said Kristoff. “Are you _actually_ thinking of joining the queen’s tournament?”

“I can’t,” said Anna testily. “They don’t accept women.”

Kristoff seemed taken aback at that. “Oh. Really? Why?”

“Might as well ask why the sun comes up,” mumbled Anna sullenly, and she clenched her fists. “It’s just not fair. And I’m also lowborn, so they wouldn’t let me compete even if I _was_ a man.”

“Lowborn have competed in tournaments before,” pointed out Kristoff. “Remember the tale of Robin Hood?”

Martin squeaked in recognition. “Oh, yes! He joined an archery contest!”

Anna frowned. “But how? Wasn’t he an outlaw? Wasn’t his face, well, _everywhere?_ ”

“He applied in disguise,” said Martin excitedly, jumping up and down. “A mystery competitor! They must only unmask themselves when they are defeated! It’s an old-” He stopped suddenly, his eyes widening. Anna met them and comprehension dawned; she grinned hugely.

“Oh, no,” said Kristoff. “Anna, this is a _really_ bad idea. First of all, it would still be against the rules. Secondly, you _can_ _’_ _t_ just _-_ ”

The first order of business was finding Anna a helmet, and whatever other heavy armor would do to conceal her visage as much as possible. With only twenty silver pieces to spend, their budget was low, but a cheap armorer would be able to aid them – or so they hoped.

“You might just wear a hood and a mask or something,” suggested Martin.

“A helmet would be better. Safer,” said Anna.

“And more expensive,” grumbled Kristoff.

After asking for directions, they found their way to the armorers’ district, which was really more of a series of alleyways hot with the fires of constantly-burning forges and loud with the din of hammers and tongs.

“You know,” said Kristoff, “anyone who sees us buying this gear is going to know who has it when you compete. _If_ you compete. Won’t that ruin the whole thing?”

Anna frowned; he had a point. “Well… what if we split up? Buy each individual part separately?”

“That still narrows things down to three people.”

“Does it matter? This city is big.”

Kristoff rolled his eyes. “O-kay,” he said, “but don’t come crying to me when they’re chopping off your hands for breaking the law.”

Anna involuntarily rubbed her wrists. “You’re just trying to scare me.Why don’t you want me to compete?”

“Gee, I dunno, maybe because it’s dangerous and stupid?”

“You don’t think I can win?”

“Anna, think about it. Most of the competitors have been fighting their _entire lives._ And those lives have been much longer than yours. Remember that story about when Lord Ulfton cut off that guy’s head in a melee?”

“That was for treason, Kristoff. I’m not a traitor.”

“That’s not my point. I’m saying that accidents happen, and sometimes really deadly ones. And even if you win, when you reveal yourself, _then_ they’ll _still_ cut off your hands. For, y’know, breaking the rules. Hell, they might even chop off your head for shaming them so much.”

“I’ll just use my one request of the queen to ask for pardon.”

Kristoff rolled his eyes again, but said nothing. Martin cut in, his high voice quiet and unsteady as always: “I have an idea. About the gear, I mean. What if I bought all of it? And then I can pretend to be your – erm, the mystery knight’s squire. Nobody would think that was strange.”

Anna blinked at him. “That’s a really good idea, Martin. You see, Kristoff? At least Martin supports me in this.”

Kristoff folded his arms, shooting a daggery glare at Martin. “Well, whoop-de-doo. You still need to find some cheap gear.”

Cheap gear proved hard to find, however, and the day was nearly done when they happened upon a dinky little shop at the end of an alley. On the stoop outside, a hunchbacked old woman in a patchy pointed hat was throwing scraps of food at some ragged old alleycats, variously mewling and hissing pathetically.

On display next to the stoop, on several long wooden pegs, was a variety of odds and ends – among them a small, beaten gray iron greathelm with a T-shaped slit in the front. It was mostly unadorned, except for a fluffy, garish red plume that stuck out of the top like a ponytail. Next to it was a small, stout, dull breastplate lined with fur. The whole assortment looked perfect. There were some other goods on display as well, but Anna only had eyes for the helmet and breastplate.

“I wish I could try them on,” said Anna in a low voice to Martin. “But that would be too risky. I think this is as good as it’s going to get.” Martin nodded and took some silver and went up to the old woman.

“Um, excuse me,” offered Martin. The old woman looked up at him and narrowed her beady eyes. Her hair was stringy and green, and her face was lined with wrinkles. “I was wondering – that is, I wanted to buy these two things, and I thought – that is, I was wondering if you might like to bargain for them?”

Anna might have groaned. It should have been Kristoff, she realized suddenly. At least he’s spent a lot of time around Oaken. She could feel Kristoff stifling his laughter.

“Eh? What’s that, sonny?” said the old woman. “I can’t hear you so good, you’ll have to speak up.”

Martin blinked and reddened. “I wanted to buy these two things-” he began again, with more volume.

“Louder, son, my hearing ain’t what it used to be,” said the old woman.

“I wanted to buy these two-” said Martin again, his voice rising almost to a shout.

“Louder, son!”

“I wanted to buy-”

“LOUDER, SON!”

Martin roared, “I WANTED TO BUY-”

The front door of the shop burst open suddenly, and out came a much younger woman, brow knotted in frustration. “All right, _who_ is making all this damn noise?”

Martin went green and lost his speech, stuttering an incoherent non-reply. Anna sighed inwardly and stepped up to the stoop. The old woman was bent over in wheezing laughter, and slapping her knee repeatedly with one hand. “Oh-hoho-ho! That’s good!”

“Sorry,” said Anna to the young woman. “My friend here was just trying to buy something from your shop. We’ll be on our way, if that’s not too much trouble.”

“Buy something?” repeated the young woman. “You’re a customer, then?” Her face lit up, and she smiled big. “A customer! Well, that’s just great! What do you need? We have a special on love potions today, it’s been a good harvest for frog wings this year.”

“I, erm, _what?_ ” said an utterly baffled Anna.

The woman blinked at her. “Well, this is a potions shop, don’t you know? That’s fine, maybe love potions aren’t your speed. We have a draught of invisibility, well, it’s just a mite unpredictable at the moment, maybe it disappears your clothes instead of your body, or the other way around, though in the heat of summer maybe that’s not so bad?” She winked and grinned hugely. Her face was tanned and flushed, and she was missing a front tooth, though the rest of her teeth were pearly white. She wore a pointed brown hat and had short green hair that curled around her ears, and her eyes were alsobright green. She wore a frilly purple dress that went down to her knees and left her tan arms bare. Anna estimated that she was probably a year older than her, at most.

Her thoughts on the subject matter proved harder to marshal. “I’m sorry, potions?” she managed to say. “I thought this was an armor shop – the helmet and the breastplate…”

“Oh, those old things?” The young woman cocked her head, her smile gone, lips pouted in a professional display of innocent curiosity. “What do you want with them?”

“I, um – um,” Anna struggled to think of some cover story, but nothing came to mind. Nothing _good_. She smiled nervously. “I’m a collector?” she offered feebly.

“A collector of old helmets and breastplates?” repeated the young woman incredulously. “That’s pretty boring, if I’m being honest. What do you think, Grandmama?”

“I think this little lady’s not telling us the goddess’ own truth,” said the old woman, and she scratched her chin with a wry smile. “Go on, now. What’s your real interest?”

Anna shrugged. “I’m just interested in collecting armor and stuff, that’s all,” she said firmly, resolving to double down. They couldn’t prove she was lying, after all.

The old woman cackled lightly. “All right, missy. How about we play a little game? You try to guess my name, and I try to guess yours. If you guess my name correctly, I’ll give you the helmet and breastplate for free. If I guess your name correctly, you have to tell me your real interest in ‘em. That sound fair?”

“Uh,” said Anna. She supposed she didn’t have anything to lose, though it was a strange offer the old woman was making. “Okay, I guess.”

The old woman grinned like a cat. “You go first.”

Anna thought for a moment. What kind of name do old women have? “Sophia?” she asked.

The old woman shook her head. “That’s one.”

“Rumplestiltskin?”

The young woman laughed, and the old woman shook her head again. “That’s two. Good guess, though. I knew that guy. He was a bit of a mook, to be honest.Got so famous he ruined his own game. Here, I’ll give you a hint. Think of something _sweet._ ”

Anna screwed up her face in concentration. Something sweet. What was the sweetest thing she’d ever eaten? “Chocolate?”

The old woman chuckled and shook her head. “No, and chocolate is bitter, not sweet. My name is Syrup. And now I get to guess yours. Ready?”

Anna frowned and nodded her head. _Syrup?_ What kind of name is syrup? Better than chocolate, she supposed. Not that there was much that was better than chocolate.

“Anna,” said the old woman at once, and Anna felt her jaw drop open.

“How did you…” began Anna. She narrowed her eyes. “You cheated. You didn’t guess at all. You already knew my name, didn’t you?”

“You can’t prove anything,” said Syrup. “Now, then, we had a bet. Why do you want those old pieces of tin?”

Anna hesitated, and absentmindedly wrung her hands. “Well, I… it’s for me, you see. I need a disguise.”

The young woman’s face flickered with interest, and the corners of her mouth curled upwards. “Ooh, a disguise!” she chirped. “How devious! What for?”

She had said too much, and she knew it. She shut her lips tight, and the young woman’s eyes shot to the sword at her side. Right, thought Anna, _duh_.

“Oh, it’s true! A warrior girl! Grandmama, your crystal ball was right.” She looked Anna up and down and then hopped up to her, until she stood only a foot away. “You didn’t mention she would be so _cute_ , though.”

Anna felt herself turn red, and she had to swallow the knot that formed in her throat. She threw her eyes everywhere but at the eccentric woman standing in front of her.

“Tellyawhat,” said the green-haired girl, her voice lowering as she moved her face closer to Anna’s. Her green eyes flashed with a mischievous gleam. “I’ll give you a special discount. Get you everything you need for your disguise. Just so long as you tell us what you _really_ want the disguise for. Pretty please?” She winked, eyelashes fluttering.

“Uh…” said Anna. “There’s just the tournament tomorrow, and I… want to compete…” She tried to smile coolly, but imagined she just ended up looking goofy.

The young woman laughed, her voice like soap bubbles hitting windchimes. She stepped away. “All right,” she said. “My name’s Maple.” She stuck out her hand, and a beat later Anna took it and shook. Her hands were surprisingly smooth and soft.

Maple didn’t let her break the handshake though. She seized Anna’s arm with sudden strength and pulled her close, turning Anna’s palm upwards and inspecting it closely with narrowed eyes.

“Good lines,” she commented. “Too bad your rivers are crossed and stuff. But it looks like you’re gonna win tomorrow. Wow, lots of callouses.” Her head snapped up. “I’m messing with you. I can’t read palms. That was all made-up. Except that part about the callouses.” She released Anna’s hand suddenly and went over to the pegs where the armor pieces were hanging. She plucked the helmet and breastplate off the pegs and skipped back to the shop’s entrance, disappearing inside.

When Anna didn’t follow, she stuck her head out the doorway and blinked at her.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Come on!”

Not knowing what to say, Anna began to move on automatic towards the entrance. She cast a look over her shoulder and saw Martin with a dumbfounded expression, and Kristoff with an eyebrow raised and a faint scowl on his face. Strong hands grabbed her by the arms and pulled her into the shop, and the door slammed shut behind her.

The inside of the shop was dark for a few moments until Maple lit a candle and set it on a low wooden table. The dancing flame cast twisty shadows around the room, small and cozy. Shelves stacked with jars and weird glass ornaments lined the room. There were little dolls, books, a dried toad nailed to a wooden plank; there was a mask with a frightening visage painted on it in, in so many colors that they seemed to change every time Anna blinked. In the corner, sitting on a low stool, was a metal stand that held a pale blue orb that seemed to suck in the light. Anna was mesmerized by it for several seconds, until Maple snapped her fingers and caught her attention.

“Hey, freckles, focus. We have work to do.”

Maple set the helmet and breastplate down on the table next to the candle, and plopped herself down on a cushioned chair. She leaned over the armor and steepled her fingers together. “Hmmmmm.”

She continued hmm’ing for a long time, while Anna just stood there, confused, looking at the green-haired girl peer over the unmoving armor. When it felt like minutes had passed, she cleared her throat lightly.

Maple’s head snapped up. “Hm? Oh, yes, how rude of me. Please sit down, Anna.” She licked her lips. “Anna. That’s a good name. It drips with destiny.” She slammed her hands down on the table, just as Anna was lowering herself into another cushioned chair. The sudden motion nearly made her jump.

“So you need a disguise. Well, this would do, but I can’t imagine anyone would willingly look like this, not if they could _help_ it.” Her eyelids shuttered rapidly, and she shot a glance over Anna’s shoulder. “Your shield. May I see it?”

“Um, sure,” said Anna, and she retrieved Moss and handed it to the green-haired girl.

Maple took the shield carefully, running her fingers over the red paint relief of a flower on the front with a reverent, gentle touch. “Aw, it’s scratched,” she whined. “Bear claws, by the look of it. Or something. Tussle with bears a lot?”

“Occasionally,” joked Anna, and she chuckled weakly.

Maple smirked at her. “Not fair for the bear, I imagine. This shield, though, it’s been around the block a few times. Troll-made. Wonder where you got it?” She wrinkled her nose. “I think our mystery knight is going to turn a lot of heads. Tell me you can see it, too: she shows up, dressed in armor that looks like it was pulled out of a swamp and rubbed with grass. My gosh, he looks like a proper revenant! That’s what they’ll say. I bet that’ll be scary.”

Anna frowned in confusion. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

“The decorations, silly. And the make. Don’t tell me you were gonna wear this stuff without even trying it on first? _Trust_ me, it wouldn’t be comfortable.”

“Do you have a suit of armor that would fit me?” asked Anna. “How could that be?”

“Not right this instant, but in a few instants, yeah.” She flashed her teeth, her missing tooth pitcher than ever. “Just so you know, this is a special service. I want you to win. Mostly because I can just see the look on all those fancy white knights’ faces when you take off your helm and bow before the queen. Ooh, who’s the damsel in distress now?” She laughed happily. She handed Anna back her shield, and then picked up the helmet, and started rotating it in her hands. “Of course, I will ask for something else if you win.”

“Like what?”

She whistled. “There’s a prize. In addition to the special wish that the queen will grant you. Ten thousand gold flakes to the winner.”

Shock hit Anna like a bucket of cold water. “Ten thousand gold flakes? I didn’t know that.”

“Really? I guess that’s not surprising. They wouldn’t go out of their way to mention it. It’s sort of a consolation, really. Like a moderate windfall for the lords and knights who win these things most of the time. Still, a girl could do a lot with that kind of money. ‘Specially a girl like me. All I ask is you turn over the reward to me when you win. The request – you can make of that whatever you want. I just want the money.”

Ten thousand gold flakes was indeed a small fortune. Money like that, and she could practically buy out Burrowstown. Maple was asking for a lot. Anna’s eyes cast down to her shield, and the painted flower thereon. On the other hand, she didn’t even know there was a prize until just now. The prestige – and the request – would still be hers.

“Deal,” said Anna, looking back up at Maple. She grinned, and Maple’s green eyes glittered. “If I lose, though, what do I owe you?”

“Nothin’,” said Maple casually. “I ‘spect if you lose they’ll lop off your hand.” She lifted a hand and rotated her wrist in a lazy chopping motion. “Since this is kind of illegal and all that. You’d better make good use of your request, on that note, since otherwise you’ll lose your hand anyway _and_ I’ll lose my prize. Well, your prize, technically.”

Anna nodded. “You just get me into the tournament, and I’ll worry about winning.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” said Maple. She stuck out a hand. “Shake on it?”

Without hesitating, Anna took Maple’s hand and shook. A strange, dizzying feeling ran through her just then, like someone had just spun her around and around in circles for hours. It passed in a heartbeat, and Anna shook her head rapidly.

“Feelin’ okay?” asked Maple.

“Yeah, just a… weird feeling, that’s all.”

Maple giggled. “Probably because you just shook hands with a witch.” Her eyes glittered in amusement.

Anna stared at Maple, and her jaw slackened. Fear started roiling in her stomach. “So, um,” she said, at length, “am I going to turn into a toad now, or something?”

Maple laughed again. “Aw, you turned so pale! Don’t worry, honey, I won’t turn you into a toad. Just a friendly warning that a witch’s word is _binding_ , so if you try to cheat me, I’ll _know._ ”

Anna blinked. “I wouldn’t cheat you. I gave you my word.”

Maple’s expression fell. “Oh. You really wouldn’t.” Her fingers twisted through the end of the plume as she stared at Anna contemplatively. After a while, she smiled faintly. “Huh, cute _and_ honest. This world’s gonna eat you alive.”

“It’s welcome to try,” said Anna. She patted Autumn’s hilt and attempted to suppress the flickering smirk she felt. Maple giggled, and, with a flourish, held out the helmet with both hands.

“Try this on,” she said. “And hurry up. It’s almost night and I have, like, a zillion glamors to work out before the tournament tomorrow.”

* * *

 

Anna was admiring Maple’s handiwork and sitting on a large feather bed. Maple charged nothing for the armor – at least, she hadn’t charged them any silver pieces – so they were free to use their remaining funds to buy some good lodging at an inn that didn’t have any fleas.

The door to the room opened, and Anna looked up. Kristoff entered, his expression still sour.

“Kristoff-” began Anna, but he cut her off.

“You’re all signed up. Mystery competitor. Tourney name: The Flower Knight.” He stomped over to the corner of the room and started rummaging through his big satchel. “Martin’s registered as your squire. He’s downstairs eating some dinner. So, yeah, you’re all ready to go get yourself killed tomorrow.”

Anna’s temper flared. “What’s your problem?Why are you acting like this?”

He looked up suddenly. “What’s _my_ problem? Anna, you nearly got killed on the road here. Hell, we _all_ did. And now that we’re safe in the city, you’re just going to throw your life away – and for what? For glory or – or money? I just don’t get it.”

She jumped off the bed, striding up to him to jab him in the chest with her finger. “What do you care? This is _my_ choice. I _want_ to do this. Who are you to tell me it’s the wrong choice?”

“Because I don’t want you to _die_ , Anna!” he yelled.

She set her jaw. “I am not going to die, Kristoff.” He scoffed and stomped towards the window. She raised her voice. “Look, if anything goes wrong, I’ll yield and that’ll be that. I’ll be out of the tournament completely unharmed.”

He stopped, and turned to look at her. “You mean that?”

“Yes, I do,” she said earnestly. “Kristoff, I appreciate that you care enough about me that you’re worried about me, but this is _my_ choice. I _want_ to do this. If I don’t, I mean… I think it would be worse to go through life knowing that I gave up this opportunity, you know? Maybe not worse than dying, but the risk is worth it to know I tried.”

Kristoff folded his arms. “Worse for _you_ , maybe. I’m fine if you feel a little guilty, so long as you’re alive to feel it.” His arms dropped to his side. “Look, I’m sorry for snapping at you, it’s just… it’s been a crazy week. I keep thinking any of us could die at any moment.”

Anna frowned. She cast her eyes to the floor. That was her fault, she knew, and it was a legitimate fear. She dragged Kristoff and Martin along on her insane adventure, and brought both of them within a close shave of death. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry, too.” She looked back up at him, and tempered her resolve. “Look, I promise you, this tournament won’t be the thing that kills me.”

Kristoff shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Somehow that’s not all that reassuring.”

“It’s the best you’re going to get,” she replied flatly. She attempted a smile. “Besides, how could I let myself die when I know you’ll be there to scold me the moment you join me in the afterlife?”

Kristoff snorted, and smiled the tiniest bit. “Fair enough,” he said, and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Just promise me if you win, you won’t forget all about us little people.”

She smiled back. “I promise.”

 


	10. The Flower Knight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. This is another extra-long chapter. Sorry about that, it, ah, got away from me a little. Please enjoy, and thanks again for your reviews.

 

The morning of coronation day rose cool and foggy over Crystalwater. Inside the Arenborg, lords and ladies from all over Europa were bearing witness to the crowning of Her Royal Majesty, Queen Elsa of House Arendelle and the Kingdom of Arendelle, the First of Her Name, the Ice-Blood.

But for the mystery competitor, the Flower Knight, all of this was hidden by the vast bulk of the Arenborg. The castle courtyard, a wide, cobbled area with an enormous fountain in the middle, was opened to the commons, and there was merriment and diversion enough for anybody – but that was a meager substitute for seeing the crowning with one’s own eyes.

The princess had emerged that morning and waved to the crowd, who shouted out their adoration for their beloved princess. The Flower Knight stood, her squire by her side, and watched from beneath her darkened, sea-green greathelm. That entire morning she had stood thus, her brown gloved hands clasped together, among the ranks of the honored knights who would be competing that day. Many of them spared long, suspicious glances for the mystery knight and her strange armor, glances she returned in kind. The witch girl had insisted the shadow of her helm would have an ominous effect, and indeed, the Flower Knight could practically feel the goosebumps on some of the squires that looked her way. Others were not so impressed; she imagined that her lack of stature contributed to that somewhat. All the same, nobody bothered her.

Yet for all this stoicism, the Flower Knight was completely unprepared for when the princess came out that morning.

She didn’t look quite like she had all those years ago, when a younger Flower Knight had seen a younger princess ride through the streets of Burrowstown. Or maybe she wasn’t remembering properly. _That_ princess hadn’t seemed to fill her stomach with burning coals. Despite the cool morning, the Flower Knight felt her armor was getting a little warm for comfort.

The princess was outfitted in a long flowing dress of teal flecked with navy, dark colors contrasted against the light of her skin and the golden blonde of her hair, in which rested a diamond-studded silver clasp. As she stepped out before the crowd, pale yet radiant, eyes large, bright, and shining, the Flower Knight’s heart fluttered. _My princess,_ she thought. _My queen._

And then, the Flower Knight thought she saw something, a shadow flickering across the princess’s eyes. She saw pain there, the lurking phantom, the heavy weight, the specter of her parents’ death. And yet, there she stood, a marble statue wreathed in shadows, pristine and perfect and beautiful. _Duty_ ; the word entered her head unbidden.

“I must express my gratitude to all of you for coming,” said the princess, her voice lyrical yet strong. “We of the kingdom have suffered a grievous loss this past fortnight, and it may be that our mourning shall never end. My own sorrow is great, but I shall not balk from my duty. Today I will be crowned as your new queen.” There was a tremendous roar of applause.

“I shall attempt to rule as my father did: with a firm hand, fair, and just. It has been said that his right hand was the late Lord Protector – may his soul rest in peace – and we must not forget the loss of him as well. I ask you, please, to join me in a moment of silent remembrance for those that have perished in this past fortnight.” The Flower Knight dipped her head, and thought of Madam White and Ser Magnus.

“I plan to name a new Lord Protector today, after the day’s ceremonies are complete. Hopefully, he will prove as wise, just, and able a man as his predecessor.” She raised her hands. “I hope that the day’s festivities entertain and delight all of you, and that we may put the winters of our past to rest and look forward to the springs of our tomorrows!” There was more applause, and the princess smiled, spun on her heels, and went back into the castle – this time trailed by a significant entourage of well-dressed men and women disembarking from palanquins, litters, horses, and carriages, to proceed up the steps with all the grace afforded by their noble birth.

“That was a good speech,” said Martin. “I thought so, anyway. Why worry about the past when we can make the future even better?”

“No mention of the gods, though,” rumbled a man with braided, greasy black hair standing within earshot. “That bodes ill, I tell you.”

“The Arendelles are always queer when it comes to the gods,” said another man. Both men were dressed in armor and wore weapons of some kind – potential competitors of the Flower Knight in the tournament later that day. The Flower Knight studied them coolly from beneath the shadow of her helm.

“I say it’s because they think they’re gods, and just nobody has had the courage to point out otherwise,” piped in a third man.

The Flower Knight tuned out the ensuing conversation about humility, instead thinking about the princess and the coronation that was probably going on at that very moment. She wished she could see, but the actual crowning was only to be seen by the privileged. She contented herself with watching the antics of a variety of clowns and performers that had gathered in the square to perform capers and songs for the throng. At noon, the sun revealed itself, and the cool air of the morning swiftly yielded before its hot beams. Food was brought out from the castle, and people were free to eat their fill of a large variety: bushels of apples, honeyed hams, warm bread with marmalade and fresh butter, filleted fish, huge wheels of stark white cheese, and slices of a gigantic roasted boar. It was an absurdly generous spread, with enormous quantities of food being place on tables for, as far as Anna could see, no purpose but public consumption. Casks of ale and wine came out and did not stop flowing.

Though she was loath to send Martin on errands, the need to maintain her disguise had the Flower Knight sending Martin to fetch her some food. She had broken her fast on sausage and boiled eggs in the inn that morning, and wasn’t feeling very hungry, although whether that was because she didn’t need to eat, or because she was suppressing a powerful anxiety about the upcoming tournament… well, she couldn’t say.

This anxiety was little helped when, a short while later, Maple appeared out of nowhere. The Flower Knight was grateful for the distraction and, truth be told, she rather liked the young witch, even if she was a trifle odd; but this notwithstanding, she couldn’t truly get her mind off the tournament.

“Hej hej, Flowers,” cooed Maple, and she rested a comradely hand on the false knight’s armored shoulder. “You look bored.”

“I am bored,” admitted the Flower Knight miserably. “And hot.”

“Huh, I almost didn’t recognize your voice from within that helmet of yours.” Maple scanned the Flower Knight with her bright green eyes. “In fact, that whole get-up looks pretty good, if I do say so myself. Convincing. You’d never know there was such a cutie under there.”

“Or a person almost dying of heat exhaustion.”

Maple’s face screwed up. “Huh, I thought I did something about that. Hold still.” She wiggled some fingers in front of the Flower Knight’s face, and then reached into the T-shaped visor, grabbed the tip of the knight’s nose with two fingers, and yanked lightly. “Honk.”

“Cut that out,” growled the Flower Knight, and she batted Maple’s hand away with a gloved swipe.

Maple giggled. “Hey, if you’re hot, why not get something to drink? I ‘spect that’s what most of the knights are doing. You know, drinking. Not saying you have to get blind drunk, but, well, normally a nice cold drink is how normal people get over feeling too hot.”

“Oh, yeah,” said the Flower Knight. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She really hadn’t, not because she had been trying in earnest and failing, but because she was too preoccupied with other things. Compared to remembering everything Astrid told her about footwork, remembering how to cool down seemed almost mundane. “Martin, would you please find me a skin of water?”

“Right away,” said Martin, and he dashed off.

Maple watched him go. “You know, I don’t see squires to _actual knights_ demonstrate half so much enthusiasm as that boy. Where’d you find him? Wait, let me guess. You saved him from a monster or something.”

“Well, not exactly,” said the Flower Knight hesitantly. “I helped him deal with a bully problem a few times. Honestly, I think he’s just happy to be away from his father.”

“How gallant,” bubbled Maple. “A real knight in shining armor. Minus the shining part, anyway.”

The Flower Knight chuckled. “Gallant, you think? The bully was a lordling. I maimed his hand and was banished from town.”

“Gallant all the more! You will find that lords have a very low tolerance for gallantry in this country.”

The Flower Knight frowned. She intuited the truth in what Maple was saying, but she wanted to believe it wasn’t so. “Surely not _all_ lords.”

“No, not all,” agreed Maple, and then a bell chimed loudly. Another followed shortly after, and then another, until the entire courtyard was ringing with the sound of bells. The mahogany doors of the keep opened, the queen appeared, now wearing a silver crown on her brow. At the center of the crown, a large oval sapphire glittered in the sunlight, and , six points of twisted silver shot up around the circumference of the band. Queen Elsa’s dress was flowing all around her, and she now wore a teal cape that fluttered behind her in the rising wind.

She raised her hands and smiled slightly, and the assembled crowd – the commoners, the foreigners, the highborn, the lords and hedge-knights alike, all cheered. “Long live Queen Elsa!” they cried.

Maple whistled through her missing tooth. “What a sight. I hope she likes dueling tourneys.”

The Flower Knight patted Autumn’s hilt for luck.

The lists had been set up outside the castle in a large field at the edge of the city. Dozens of small tents had been raised for the knights’ pleasure, and stands had been erected around a large, round dirt patch. Larger tents and pavilions were scattered here and there, and flags and pennants whipped their owners’ multicolored heraldry in the summer breezes. At the end of the lists was the royal booth, tall and shaded beneath a pinstriped pavilion, from which the queen and her closest advisors would be observing the action. Further away, more dirt patches had been set apart, though there were only some low benches surrounding those.

She walked the distance in the company of the other competitors, flanked by Martin and Maple. The knights talked and japed idly with one another while she kept silent. Passing lowborn spared her odd, suspicious gazes, and she caught the gossip from groups of passersby: “The tournament will go to the Prince, sure as rain. None are quicker.” “No, it will be the Giant, see if it isn’t. That man could tear the Prince in half.”

The Flower Knight’s tent was in the corner of the field, the furthest away from the lists. A tall man with a grizzly brown beard and thick eyebrows pointed them to it. “Mystery knight, eh?” he grunted. “‘Flower Knight’, is it? Can I guess?”

“Sure,” chirped Maple, before the Flower Knight could open her mouth so speak.

“Ser Wendel Bigsby? He’s a short fella’. Hope you don’t mind my sayin’ so, good ser knight.”

Maple sniggered, and the Flower Knight shook her head.

“Hm… Ser Danton Linnaeus? No, wait, that can’t be.” The man grunted, and rubbed his beard. “Confound it. I’ll take no more of your time.”

The Flower Knight nodded in thanks, and went to her tent, Maple snickering all the way. “’Good ser knight!’ Did you hear that?”

“All it took was a suit of armor to get people to call her a knight,” marveled Martin, a rucksack slung over his shoulder.

Once inside the tent, the Flower Knight took a quick inventory. It was barely furnished: there was a rough patched rug spread out over the grassy ground, a chair, a trunk, a table, a simple cot, and a basin of water, all provided freely by their hosts.

The Flower Knight removed her helmet and sat down in the chair heavily. “Oof,” she said. “Feels good to get that off.” She ran her fingers through her hair, now matted with sweat.

“Oh, Anna, it’s you!” joked Maple. “Where have you been all morning? I met this really sulky knight today. He was kind of a shorty.”

“Ha-ha,” said Anna, unlaughing, and she set her helmet down. “Do you mean to shadow me all day, or are you only going to bother me for the nonce?”

Maple smiled. “Well, I must needs make sure my competitor is in fighting shape. As your sponsor, I am entitled to a little come-and-go privilege, _no?_ ”

“And here I thought you cared about _me,_ ” said Anna dryly.

Maple giggled. “Your first tilt is in twenty minutes,” she said. “Not the main stage. One of the other arenas. Sadly, you’ll only fight for the crowd after you make your way into the fourth round.”

“Tilt?” blinked Anna. “This is a dueling tournament.”

“Just a figure of speech, my good ser knight,” said Maple.

Anna snorted. “Any idea who my first opponent is?”

“Your first several opponents are nobodies. Like you. I should think they’d be slim pickings.”

Anna waved a hand dismissively. “It won’t do to underestimate my competitors.” Kristoff’s words came to mind: _Most of the competitors have been fighting their entire lives. And those lives have been much longer than yours._

Maple’s nostrils flared. Her smile fell and she looked pointedly at Anna. “Fair enough. Have you ever fought a duel before? A tourney duel?”

Anna nearly said yes, but then shook her head. “Not like this.”

“The rules are simple. You fight in the arena, the circle of dirt. If either competitor steps outside the arena during the duel, they forfeit the match. Same if either competitor falls unconscious, yields, or dies. Most matches are fought to a yielding, though sometimes fools with more pride than sense throw themselves on a much better opponent’s sword. Hope that’s not you, hon’.”

“If it gets too much for me to handle, I’ll yield.”

“Well, I’d sooner you just win. I have a good feeling about you, freckles.”

“I promised a friend I’d yield before I died.”

Maple shrugged her shoulders. “Yielding is usually better than dying,” she admitted.“Anyway, your first opponent is Ser Frawn, a knight from the wings. His mother is Lady Ysmir Corel, who sits on the king’s council as the Royal Spymaster.”

Anna frowned. “How exactly is he a ‘nobody’?”

Maple smiled wickedly. “Her Ladyship has _many_ sons and daughters. Ser Frawn owns a small barony, but that’s it. And it doesn’t sound like he’s very good at fighting, either. Thing is, he is _tall_ , so be cautious of that.”

Anna nodded. “Thanks for your counsel. How did you learn of all this?”

Maple chuckled and flashed Anna a knowing grin. “Oh, I have my ways. Is your equipment cleaned and ready for battle? Polished your armor, sharpened your sword, and all that?”

Anna realized with a pang that she hadn’t honed Autumn’s edge at all in the past week. She brought her sword into her lap and pulled Autumn from its scabbard, steel scraping against leather with a soft ‘scchhhk’ noise. She placed a finger lightly against the edge, and felt the dullness. Frowning, she turned to Martin. “Do we have a whetstone?” she asked him. Martin began rummaging in the rucksack.

“That’s a pretty sword,” observed Maple. She inclined her head at Anna. “May I…?”

Reluctantly, Anna turned Autumn over to Maple’s hands. Maple clasped the hilt gingerly and raised the blade, pressing its edge against the fingers on her other hand. “Ow!” she said suddenly, and jerked the blade away, the flat of her index finger now glistening with a red line. She stuck the finger in her mouth and sucked. “Don’t worry about that whetstone,” she mumbled around her finger. “Your sword is plenty sharp.”

Anna frowned. “How can that be? I just felt the edge myself. It was dull.”

“To _you_ , it would seem,” said Maple. “This a Berkish blade. See the folded metal patterns? A sword like this knows its owner.” She handed Autumn back to Anna, and smiled wide. “I thought I sniffed magic on you. I guess it was in your sword.”

Anna’s jaw dropped as she gazed at her sword, accepting it from Maple’s hands delicately, as if it was a swaddled child. “This sword is magic?”

“Kinda. The people of Berk had to make do with low-quality iron and blistering dragonfire. The first problem they solved by folding the steel of their blades. The second problem they solved by binding their swords with blood. So, yeah, it is magic, after a fashion.” She sniffed. “Blood magic. How droll.”

“You don’t approve?” asked Anna, and she carefully slipped Autumn back into its sheath.

“Oh, it’s not that I don’t _approve_ , I just find it so uncreative. Like they thought to themselves, ‘gee, what should this spell use? Oh, I know, _blood_ ,’ like it hadn’t been done a zillion times before.” She bubbled a high-pitched laugh.

“My father always said blood magic was dangerous,” said Martin. “And that those who practiced it were dark and… and evil.”

“ _All_ magic is dangerous,” said Maple. “And all magicians have a touch of evil in them.” Maple crossed her arms and let that sit for a few seconds, while Martin gaped in shock. “Not _me_ , you silly. I’m different. A good guy, through and through!” She swung her arm in a comradely gesture.

Anna couldn’t help smiling. “Somehow I don’t think you’re being completely honest with us.”

“Maybe not,” agreed Maple. “But you’re stuck with me for now, freckles.” The sound of drums picked up just then, a boom-boom-boom coming from the lists. “And as for right now, you’d better focus on winning this tournament!”

“And winning _you_ all that money,” added Anna, still smiling.

“If you insist,” replied Maple sweetly.

She buckled Autumn to her hip, and then picked up her helmet and put it on her head. Normally, a helmet like this would have felt terribly uncomfortable over her long hair, but some peculiar ensorcelment of the helmet made it no object at all. She wondered what got Maple to think of it, since, after all, the witch’s own hair was so short. She stood up and went over to the water basin.

The Flower Knight looked into the waters of the basin. Staring back was a moss-green-and-gray helmet, adorned with two very short reindeer antlers on top – inspiration born when Maple learned of Sven. Her face was completely obscured by the shadow of the helmet so that it looked as if the void itself was staring back at her through the cool, clear mist of the basin’s waters.

The rest of her armor was of a look, full-plated: mottled green and dark gray, thick, tightly banded and worked steel, comfortable yet cunningly unrevealing of her true form. On her hands were tough, padded leather gloves that hugged her skin; on her legs, steel kneepads and thighguards, and her own brown leather boots, heavily worn. In all, she looked a knight, albeit one over which someone had draped a lot of moss and vines, or allowed to soak in a swamp. Not a “flower” knight at all. Except for the shield, there were no flowers of any kind. Maple thought the irony was great. In fact, the exact word she used was “delicious.”

“Wait, finishing touch.” Maple bounded up to her and produced a long, pine-green cape from a hidden fold in her dress. It was huge, and on the back, an exact duplicate of the flower on her shield was threaded in red relief. The cape was lined with dark burgundy fur. She reached her arms around Anna’s neck and clasped it to her gorget with two metal pins shaped like flowers.

“No capes,” warned Anna, and she moved to unpin the flowers.

“What? Why not?” exclaimed Maple, crestfallen.

“They get in the way,” said Anna. “My teacher always told me too much ornamentation was dangerous.”

Maple pouted. “Oh, but capes are such _fun._ And this is a tournament. It’s supposed to be fun. Not for you, but for the people watching. Come on!” She crossed her arms and thrust out her chin. “As your sponsor, I am formally ordering you to wear this cape.”

Anna sighed. “Will it please you if I wear this cape?”

Maple nodded, once, firmly, her eyes hard as flint.

Anna looked over at Martin. “What do you think, Martin?”

“Um,” he said. “It looks pretty cool, I guess.”

“That settles it!” cried Maple. “Now, off to the lists with you!”

Anna relented and let the pins stay, strapping her shield to her left forearm and making sure that Autumn was at the ready. She patted the hilt for luck, and strode out the tent and towards the lists, Martin in tow, the cool breeze whipping her cape behind her. She had to admit, the effect would be impressive.

She arrived at the arena and hailed the arena’s herald, a tanned, bald man with big lips. Martin spoke for her: “The Flower Knight is ready to compete, Your – ser.”

The man raised his eyebrow at Martin. “All right, then, Flower Knight. I trust you know the rules?”

Anna nodded.

“Very good. You may take your place at this end of the arena.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, and Anna went to her spot, and stood in it.

Martin stood at the edge of the arena. “Good luck, Anna,” he said softly.

She could have smiled. “Thanks, Martin. You’ve been a good squire.”

“And you a good knight,” he said in complete earnest. “I hope you win, and ask the queen to knight you. That would show them.”

Then Anna did smile. “We’ll see.”

After a minute of waiting, her opponent appeared. He was gray-haired, with thick, gray sideburns, clad completely in sky-blue armor that seemed studded everywhere with crystals, and tall – really tall, in honesty. He must have been pushing seven feet. For all that height, he was relatively lanky, though, his arms resembling two long willow reeds. Anna thought she must have more muscle than him. His squire was a portly young boy with long blond hair that covered his eyes. Ser Frawn stepped to the edge of the arena,. The light played off the crystals on his steel plate, and he doffed his light gray halfhelm to the watchers – all two dozen of them: the benches around the arena mostly deserted. Many of the onlookers at the lists that day were no doubt at the main stage, which was reserved only for the choicest fights and, later, the final rounds.

The squire brought forth a light blue metal shield with a white cloud painted on the front, which Ser Frawn strapped to his forearm, and a white steel longsword with a light blue stone embedded in the crossguard. Ser Frawn took the longsword and lifted it up high, the silvery grays of the hilt and the white of the blade looking resplendent in the sunlight.

Anna drew out Autumn, the faintly dark folded steel flashing as the light moved from fold to fold. She didn’t lift her sword, unlike Ser Frawn, and instead lowered its tip to her side. She must have been quite a sight: that short knight, with those ridiculous antlers, that rough, odd shield, that strange sword of no one color. The wind rose and played with her cape.

Ser Frawn stepped into the arena, his long, sideburned face flat and serious. He bowed to the Flower Knight, and the Flower Knight bowed back.

“Knights, bare steel and fight!” cried the herald. Their steel was already brought out, making his injunction unnecessary – but Anna guessed it was probably tradition to shout that out before a round began.

Ser Frawn called out to her as he walked deeper into the arena. “‘The Flower Knight,’ eh? I’ve never heard of you before.”

Anna did not answer, instead lifting her shield and brandishing her sword, proceeding into the arena with a careful, ready step.

Ser Frawn grunted. “Not one for idle chit-chat, it would seem. You’re here for a fight. I’ll abide you on that, at least!” He lunged suddenly, bringing his white sword around with surprising speed.

Anna caught the blow with Moss, and stabbed at his gut with Autumn. He managed to jump back and block her jab with his own shield, an awful screeching noise accompanying the steel-on-steel strike. She retreated, and saw that she had punctured his shield right through.

Back-and-forth they went, him launching his attacks, her dodging and blocking constantly, and launching ripostes when she thought she could. The helmet imposed a handicap Anna was not used to: she had no peripheral vision, and so constantly had to adjust her head so that she could keep sight of her opponent. Long minutes passed as the tall man grunted and swung his longsword, and his movements began to slow. _He grows tired,_ she thought.

At last, her chance came. He brought his sword down on her, a blow she received on her shield. She twisted her shield arm to the side, knocking the blade away. Ser Frawn barely managed to maintain his grip on his sword while he brought his shield up to protect his core, but he was off-balance, and Anna was aiming for his sword hand. She struck Ser Frawn in the wrist, a glisten of red appearing through his lobstered gauntlet, and he dropped his sword with a gasp of pain. She kicked it away, and it rolled across the dust with a clatter.

She lifted her sword point to his neck. He stared down at her with panicked eyes. “Yield,” he gasped. “I yield.”

“Victory goes to the Flower Knight!” declared the herald, and jeers and cheers came from the benches. Anna lowered her sword and turned away.

“Wait, Flower Knight,” came Ser Frawn’s voice. She looked back. “I must know… who are you?”

She walked back to her tent, Martin taking up a pace behind her. “Wow, did you see that?” He was breathless. “I thought you might have been done for a few times, but you moved so fast… it was unreal!”

She felt herself reddening. “It was nothing. He did not marshal his blows well enough. They were overpowered and ill-aimed.”

Martin seemed to ponder at that. “If you say so. I hope all of your fights are that easy.”

_Me too_ , Anna could have said, but she held her tongue.

As it happened, the next two fights were little more in the way of challenging. In the first, a burly man with stained leather armor and a long, braided beard was her opponent. He used a sharp, steel axe, but he was slow, and Anna danced around him, delivering cuts and bruises for the better part of ten minutes before he grew frustrated and lobbed his axe at her. She dodged it, and he laughed and went to his knees, yielding.

Her third opponent was a man who wore no armor at all; instead he simply wore long white breeches and a fine velvet doublet. He wielded a long, thin sword and spoke with a strange accent. “Tirrenian,” Maple had told her. Tirrenian swordmasters were lauded for their swift and elegant swordplay. Well, Anna was swifter, if not more elegant, and repelled every blow he launched. Once he managed to connect with her side, and though his sword did not pierce her armor, the force of the blow was so great that it left a slight bruise. Maple rubbed a salve on the bruise afterwards, against Anna’s objections that it was nothing. “We need you in top fighting shape,” she said with a firm nod. Anna grudgingly admitted that it felt better, though in honesty she could not tell whether it was the salve or Maple’s hands that made it so.

The man yielded that fight after Anna bloodied him with a slash across his stomach, evidently surprised to see blood. She heard some of the onlookers laughing at his expense. “Bloody southerners, now _that’s_ why you wear armor, my lads.” The small crowd on the benches cheered the Flower Knight for giving him a nice northern welcome to the land of glaciers. She saluted the onlookers with her sword, and they cheered all the more.

The fourth fight was to take place in the main arena, looked upon by most of the city and, of course, the queen. As she walked to the arena, she began to feel butterflies in her stomach. Martin was quiet, which she was thankful for. She wasn’t sure if she could handle Maple or even Kristoff’s loquaciousness for the moment.

Kristoff… of course, he didn’t approve. Anna thought that might not prevent him from coming to watch the tourney, but so far she hadn’t seen him at all. _Fine, he can be that way,_ she thought bitterly, though she knew in truth that he wasn’t just being stubborn. He just didn’t want to see her die.

_Everybody dies,_ she thought, the white wolf’s words clear in her mind. She stepped up to the edge of the dirt arena, the wooden stands of the benches rising around her. On her left stood the elevated, shaded pavilion that housed the queen and her most trusted lords and advisors. And there she was: Queen Elsa, a careful, seemingly optimistic smile cautiously dabbed on her pale face.

“Presenting,” boomed the master of games, a short man with chestnut hair and a close-cropped beard of the same color, standing on a raised podium at the middle of the arena, “His Serenity, the Heir of Aztlan, the Serpent Spear, Prince Jotal Nhtuan!” On the other side of the arena, a man with dark tanned skin stepped out. He was dressed in a breezy skirt of leather straps, decorated with many-colored feathers, and on his torso he wore a bronze breastplate inlaid with a design of a great, winged serpent. He had long, black hair, pulled back in a tail, and his face was handsome. He was completely cleanshaven, with a strong jaw, pronounced cheekbones, and wide, clear eyes the color of violet. On his head was a burnished copper circlet with the design of a skull in the center. On his right arm, he wore a circular, copper shield; in his left hand, he wielded a long wooden spear, its tip gilded steel and wickedly barbed.

Little and less was known of Aztlan, except that it lay across the Great Sea, and it was the site of a mighty empire. Centuries ago, the people of Aztlan had crossed the Great Sea and landed in the kingdom of Caston with gigantic ships. They slaughtered the people of the kingdom wholesale, and the gods they worshipped were strange and terrifying. The neighboring kingdoms of Euzaro and Umallad set aside their differences and resolved to push the Aztecs into the sea, and, after a century of warfare, finally succeeded. Nothing remained of Caston, once proud and mighty, but since then the Aztecs had not waged war against Europa.

Instead Aztlan became a trading partner of many kingdoms across Europa, trading their prized luxuries for Europan amenities and commodities. Aztlan was where chocolate comes from, that much Anna knew. Arendelle, as one of the wealthiest kingdoms in Europa, had much business with Aztlan, despite the myriad differences in the two countries. Aztecs were often heard to complain of the cold in Arendelle, and to lament their lost kingdom of New Aztlan – what they had called the kingdom of Caston.

“And to fight him,” the master of games went on, “presenting the mystery competitor known only as The Flower Knight!”

Cheers went up by the crowd for both competitors, and the prince blew kisses to the crowd as he stepped into the circle. Anna followed suit, hand on Autumn’s hilt, surreptitiously patting it. For good luck.

“Knights,” yelled the master of games, “bare steel and fight!”

She drew Autumn and brandished it, assuming her usual ready posture as she paced forward. The prince smirked and leveled his spear, crouching as he closed the distance.

“A mystery knight,” he said, his voice buttery and smooth, betraying no hint of an accent. “In my country, we call them cowards.”

Anna said nothing, and stopped at a safe distance from the prince. That spear gave him a significant edge in reach, but if she could close the distance, it wouldn’t help him at all. She just needed to be quick.

“Those antlers look absurd, by the way,” he said, and jabbed the point of his spear at her. She blocked with her shield. He gave another swift jab, and another, and she parried and blocked again.

He continued circling her, delivering quick stabs, the advantage afforded by his reach permitting him to launch attack after attack. Anna blocked and dodged well-enough, but a black feeling laid its roots in her heart. _I can’t win like this,_ she realized. _Astrid always said I needed to be more aggressive._ Usually she only launched counterattacks. Taking the initiative was less her style. She felt the impulse, sure enough, but her discipline guided her to letting opponents take the initiative, and then tire themselves out with it.

But the prince was quick, and as he jabbed, his strikes grew stronger and more precise. _He was probing me, trying to find my weak points._ A sudden jab came, aimed at her gut, and she jumped backwards. The prince laughed.

“Oh come on, what are you afraid of?” He closed again and jabbed again. She knocked the spear away with her sword and tried to jump in, but the prince showed his shield side to her and thrust. She met with her own shield, and swung Autumn at him. He shifted his weight, turned, and knocked her attack away with his copper shield. He spun backwards, spear twirling, and stabbed at her again. The spear point connected, hitting her shoulder plate and pushing her back. She stumbled and barely avoided falling.

“That’s more like it,” said the prince. “I was going to tell you that you fight like a girl, but I’ll amend that to ‘child.’”

She ground her teeth. _I’ll show you what a girl fights like._ “How do you know what girls fight like?” she boomed from her helmet. “Do you fight girls often, then?”

The prince laughed, and jabbed at her again. She knocked the spear away and leaped forward, shield first. She met his shield again, and they were close. She made to stab him with her sword, but he pushed away from her and swung the butt of his spear at her head. It clanged against her helmet, and a ringing sound filled her ears. She squinted her eyes and saw his spear point coming for her again. She danced to her left, away from his spear, spinning, and slashed down. A splintering crack filled the air, a dull sound in the muddied water of her head, and she danced away, opening and closing her eyes as her ears continued to ring.

There the prince stood, a look of shock on his handsome face. His spear had been clear severed in two, the barbed steel point lying in the dust. “How in the sun’s name…?”

She lifted her sword at him. “Yield,” she ordered, her voice iron and strange in her own ears.

The prince chuckled, and he threw the splintered remains of his spear down. “I yield,” he said, and walked away.

Anna looked up at the stands. “Victory goes to the Flower Knight!” shouted the master of games, and there were cheers, jeers, and curses abound. The crowd chanted, “Flower Knight! Flower Knight!” Anna’s eyes went to the queen’s box, and saw Her Majesty staring right back down at her, calm and impassive.

Anna raised her sword in salute to the queen. The queen nodded her head an almost imperceptible amount. That sat well with Anna. It was outrageous to assume that the tiny nod meant actual approval, but the fantasy made her feel good. She imagined herself laying her sword at the queen’s feet, red with the blood of her enemies, and the queen beaming down at her, those eyes like crystal stars, smiling and pleased as she praised her Flower Knight’s courage and valor.

She was surprised to learn from Maple that that victory was not only an upset, but meant she would proceed to the semifinal round. “Truly?” asked Anna, who had paid no attention to the brackets.

“That’s right,” said Maple, her voice soaring with excitement. Anna removed her helmet and sat back in her chair, eyes closed. It was hot in her tent, but she couldn’t remove her helmet outside. The still, stale, muggy air would be as good as it got.

“Everyone was so sure that the prince would make it to the finals. He was a crowd favorite. And you just chopped his spear right in half!” Her eyes glittered.

“It was a near thing,” protested Anna wearily.

“ _Whatever_ it was, only two fights remain for you.” Maple was bouncing up and down in giddiness.

Anna opened her eyes and lowered her gaze. _That_ had an effect on the landscape. Two fights left meant they’d also be the two best knights in the tournament, or near enough as to make no difference. A queasy sense of vertigo overtook her as the enormity of the task was suddenly plain. “I don’t think I can do it.”

Maple stopped bouncing. “What do you mean?” she asked, head cocked slightly to one side.

“These… my next opponents are going to be the best in the tournament. Gods, what was I thinking? Ten thousand gold flakes, it’s not like some peasant girl from the sticks is really going to be able to win that, not against the best in the… in the _kingdom_.”

“Hey, hey!” snapped Maple. “Where is this talk coming from? You just defeated the prince, and he was a favorite-”

“ _A_ favorite,” said Anna sharply.

“A favorite,” agreed Maple, begrudging the admission. “But that’s no small thing!”

“It’s no great thing either.”

“You’re wrong,” said Martin suddenly, and Anna swiveled her head to stare at her squire. His face had turned red, and his hands were clenched. “He never even scratched you. They said the prince was faster than anyone, and you outsped even him! You can win! I know you can!”

Maple grinned toothily. “Your squire’s right. Listen, freckles, I’m not a betting woman, so when I put my chips on a horse, you better believe it’s for a good reason.”

Anna clasped and unclasped her sword hand, and looked away. “Sorry, I’m just… nervous, that’s all.”

She heard Maple laugh lightly, a soft, sweet sound. “I don’t blame you. Really. But what’s the sense in getting all down on us? You didn’t care before you knew it was the semifinal round. Maybe I should have kept that to myself?”

“No,” said Anna at once. “It was good that you told me. I forgot that I only joined to compete, not to win, and I have done as much.”

Maple pursed her lips in a wry half-smile. “Well, I mean, since you’re competing, you might as well win.”

“You’ve done more than just compete,” urged Martin, speaking again, his small voice reinforced by a strange tenor, a note of confidence. “There were near a hundred knights that joined this tournament, and all that remains now are four.”

It felt like someone dropped her stomach from a high mountaintop. “ _Four?_ ” she repeated. “Of a hundred? I only fought four matches.”

“You didn’t have to beat _all_ one-hundred of them,” laughed Maple. “Just the ones that beat the others. It was down to the best eight when you faced the prince.”

Anna exhaled heavily. “The three remaining knights. Are they…”

Maple’s expression darkened somewhat at that. “They are very skilled. But I still have faith you will win.”

“As do I,” said Martin.

Anna wrung her hands together, and nodded. “Who is my next opponent?”

“They call him the Giant,” said Maple. “Because he is so huge. A creative name, I know. He can wield a greatsword one-handed. And his shield is a wall. His armor is so thick that nothing can pierce it. They say that when the bloodlust gets in him, he can mow down armies of men.”

Anna was chagrined. “How can I _possibly_ beat such a person?”

Maple smiled, her eyes flitted to the sword at Anna’s side. “Magic,” she said.

“Every armor has its weak points,” said Martin with a determined look. “You will find them.”

At last they stood before the dirt arena, the crowd cheering round and round, shouting hoarsely for combat. _It’s almost as if they want to see blood,_ mused Anna darkly. Across the arena stood Ser Richard Morning, the Giant – and a giant he was. The sun was at his back, and cast a gargantuan shadow across the arena. He wore armor of dark gray, and a thick greathelm with a tiny slit for vision, crested by a silver sunburst. His cloak was like an enormous rug of black pitch, clasped to his shoulders by two more sunbursts, and it moved unceasing in the wind. Both of his gauntleted hands rested on the hilt of an enormous greatsword that stood point-first in the dust, and on his left arm was a titanic black tower shield.

The Flower Knight stood at the threshold. _He is half-again my height, and four times my breadth,_ she thought. She turned to Maple, who smiled her toothless smile.

“Maple,” she asked suddenly, “how did you lose that tooth?”

Her smile faltered the slightest bit. “It’s kind of a funny story,” she said. “It was a few years ago. I was young, and my teeth were ugly and crooked. I really wanted pretty teeth. And I told my grandmama, and she said I should make a spell if I wanted it so badly. Well, I brewed a potion, and drank it, and my teeth turned white.” She opened her mouth and pointed to the missing tooth. “Except this one. It fell out.” She closed her mouth again, and gave another smile, this one half-hearted. “Magic always has its costs. What the goddess gives with one hand, she takes with the other.”

Anna fingered Autumn’s hilt uneasily. Maple did not fail to notice the motion. “Your sword’s price has already been paid, in steel and blood.”

“That’s not what I’m thinking about,” Anna lied. “I’m thinking about _your_ price.”

“Paid when you win,” chirped Maple.

“And if I should lose?”

“Maybe I’ll settle for a kiss,” the witch replied, and winked.

“I think not,” said Anna, blushing.

Maple leaned in close. “Best not lose, then,” she whispered, and she did kiss the Flower Knight on the cheek of her helmet.

“How bold,” said Anna.

“You think that’s bold, do you?” said Maple, moving back. “I only have to _watch._ ”

“Watching can be hard,” said Anna, and she stepped into the arena.

Ser Richard Morning, the Giant, also called Blacksnow, had held the passes in the Up-And-Downs against fifty times his number in scouts of Weselton. They had come up the hill, narrow and craggy, and the Giant alone stood in the way. It had been dusting in the high passes of the Up-And-Downs, and the ground was so drenched in blood the snow looked black. That was, to hear folk tell of it.

The Giant greeted the Flower Knight by way of a grunt. “Hunh.” Anna drew her sword. She looked up at the queen’s box, and raised her sword in salute. Less than half the crowd was cheering for the Flower Knight; the rest were chanting “Giant! Giant!” The master of games introduced them. “Knights, bare steel and fight!”

“You are small,” observed the Giant, his voice sonorous and loud, muffled and somehow amplified by his helmet. It seemed to shake the ground, though Anna could not tell if that was his words or his footsteps. “I knew one like you. Ser Danton. He was small, too. Maybe you are his ghost, come back to revenge me?”

Anna said nothing, only lifting her sword and shield and standing at length. The Giant’s sword was of an impressive length, though even at five feet it seemed small in his hands.

“I liked Ser Danton,” he rumbled. “He had the vinegar in him. We fought long, and when I killed him I said a prayer to the gods for him. If I kill you, I may say a prayer for you as well.”

Anna continued standing there, waiting for the Giant to move. “Are you not one to talk?” questioned the Giant. “That is a shame. I like it when small people taunt me.” He lifted his sword, went on the balls of his booted feet, and launched himself forward with inhuman speed. Anna ducked and repelled the oncoming slash with the edge of her shield, but the sheer force of the blow knocked her stumbling, a scratching flight of splinters following the path of his blade. Another slash came soon after, empowered by a deep grunt. This one she met with her sword, and again was forced back by the strength of the attack.

_He is like an ox,_ she thought. _Or a bear._ She regained her footing and stood her ground again, wondering how long she could keep this up. At this rate, she would tire before him. _His attacks are too quick to dodge._

“Do you like my sword?” asked the Giant as he approached again. “It is huge to you, though it is like a knife to me. A giant’s knife is a whelp’s greatsword.” He slashed down, and Anna jumped to the right, the whistle of the passing steel cleaving the air. She stepped in and attempted her counterattack, but was blocked by his black shield. She went again on the backswing, attempting his other side, but he pushed his huge shield forward and bashed her bodily. She reeled and fell backwards. She stumbled to her feet just as another blow was coming down on her. She lifted her shield to meet it, and an awful crack filled the air. A white hot fire filled her left arm, and she bit back a gasp of pain.

She scrambled to her feet. The edge of the arena was behind her, now. She stepped to her right nimbly. She saw splinters of painted black wood littering the ground. _He’s destroying my shield,_ she realized with a pang. _He’s destroying Moss._

She had no time to dwell on it, though, as the Giant’s sword came again, and it was like time froze. Before she knew what she was doing, she lunged forward, under the blow, past the Giant’s sword, past his arm, past his right leg, yelling as she brought Autumn around, slashing the back of the huge man’s knee. The smell of blood punched the air.

He howled in fury and pain. He spun on her and made to hit her again, but she saw it coming. She rolled sideways, under the blow, around his back, and leaped into the air, spinning as she slashed at the Giant’s spine. His armor screeched against Autumn’s steel.

The Giant spun again, and brought his sword low, aiming for her legs. She jumped to the right to dodge it, but the Giant had seen it coming. His shield went out again, and bashed her again. Her sword went up, and the Giant’s knife met it with a clang.

Suddenly Autumn was no longer in her hands. The glint of folded steel flew across her vision and landed in the dust thirty yards away. Panic seized her like a vise.

The Giant’s blow came down, and she did the only thing she could, and raised her shield. A crack, a pop, and a roar – her shield exploded into splinters, and she fell on her rear, left arm throbbing in pain.

The words almost caught in her throat. The dust and the stench and the sun blistered her eyes and she felt teary. She focused, and thought she saw Kristoff in those stands, arms crossed, lips pursed in disappointment, gaze hard, head shaking sadly from side to side. She struggled to her feet, barely managing to crouch. “I yield,” she croaked.

The Giant must not have heard her. He raised his sword. Terror bit Anna to the bone, and all other feelings gave way to a desolate chill. “I YIELD!” she shouted.

The Giant swung again. Instinct took hold. She raised her left hand against the falling steel. It cut glove and flesh alike, and then stopped. But there was no pain. The steel was cold, oddly inviting. It rubbed its razor edge against her flesh and bone, and she felt it as one might feel a feather. She stared up at the Giant, blinking back the tears, and closed her hand around the width of the blade.

He grunted. She could feel the sword wobble, as if a fly had landed on a bit of parchment and upset its careful balance. She pulled, and pulled, and wrenched the greatsword from the Giant’s grasp.

He had barely time to take one step. She threw both hands at the hilt. Screaming, she spun, putting all of the strength and power she had left into one final swing. A soft _schwip_ , and she knew it was all over.

A nursery rhyme came to her head. _The vorpal blade went snicker-snack,_ she thought, as she stared at the Giant’s prone figure. She put the tip of his knife in the dust. It was almost as tall as she was.

“To Aren, I consign thee,” she said, and the chill fled her. The pain rushed in like a hungry tide. Faces crowded around her, mousy and green and purple and scared. Darkness pulled her down, down, away from the faces.

The next Anna knew, she was lying in a cot, the flickering of a candle her only company. Her tent. She lifted her head, and attempted to sit up, supported by her hands. A stab went up her left arm, and she gasped aloud in pain.

The entryflap to the tent swung open, and Maple poked her head in. “By the goddess, you’re awake!” she exclaimed.

Anna looked groggily at the witch, and then turned her eyes to her left hand. She was dizzy, but what she saw made her queasy. The palm of her left hand was wrapped in a thick linen bandage, and stained dark with blood.

“What… happened?” she managed at last.

Maple rushed into the tent, kneeling at Anna’s side and sifting through Martin’s rucksack. Her voice was now sharp, rough. “I thought I told that boy to pack – ah, here it is.” She produced a leather sack. Inside was a fat glass bottle with a cork stopper, filled with a thick and strangely iridescent red liquid that seemed to bubble and roil like boiling water.

“What happened?” asked Anna again.

“Be quiet and drink,” ordered Maple, and she unstoppered the glass bottle and put it to Anna’s lips. The scent of the liquid was reek and foul and the taste was sour. She nearly gagged, but she forced it down at Maple’s urging. When the bottle was empty, Maple set it aside and placed a hand on Anna’s shoulder.

“You’ll feel better shortly,” said Maple, her voice low, almost timid. Anna met her eyes, and only then seemed to feel the witch’s hand on her shoulder. She looked down and noticed that her armor was gone, and she was dressed in a simple unlaced brown tunic – not her own.

She gave a start. “The tournament! Is it-”

“Shh,” said Maple. “It’s fine. Martin and your other friend helped carry you back to the tent. We treated you privately. Nobody knows, and you’re going to the final round.” Maple inclined her head respectfully. “That is, if you still want to compete. And I really don’t blame you if not.”

Anna blinked, and tried to sit up again, wincing with pain. Maple tried to push her down, but Anna insisted. “My shield…” she said. “My armor.”

Maple turned away. “Your armor is over there. It’s fine. Your shield, though…” Maple looked sheepish. “It’s in a lot of tiny pieces.”

Anna could have sworn her heart stopped. She closed her eyes and sighed heavily. “No shield,” she said. Not a question, a statement: bland, helpless.

“Your sword is fine, though,” said Maple. “And you have a second one, now.”

Anna opened her eyes again, puzzled. “A second sword?”

Maple chanced a small smile. “The sword you snatched out of that big brute’s hand. Call it a trophy – and that was _incredible,_ by the way. The whole fight it looked like he was trying to swat a fly, and then you just… took his sword away and cut his head off with it!”

Anna cast Maple a baleful look. “Excuse me if I don’t share your apparent enthusiasm.”

Maple had the decency to appear bashful at that. “I’m sorry, it was just – nobody knew what to do. The whole crowd fell silent. And then you were lying there, bloody, and we just… well, we were so happy you were still _alive._ All of us.”

_All of you._ “Where is Martin?” asked Anna after a short pause.

“He’s explaining your absence to the master of games,” said Maple. “But – don’t worry. He’ll do fine. He’s with that other friend of yours.”

“Other friend?” repeated Anna.

“You know, that tall boy with the dopey smile and big nose,” said Maple. “What was his name? ‘Christian,’ or something?”

“Kristoff,” said Anna. So he was there, after all. She felt like apologizing to him.

A long silence ensued, and Maple sat at her cotside the whole while saying nothing. At last, Anna broke the silence: “When is my final match?”

Maple’s eyes widened. “Do you still mean to compete?”

Anna smiled humorlessly. “I owe you some money, don’t I?”

“Not necessarily,” said Maple. “I’d still accept a kiss instead.”

Anna did laugh. “You know, my old teacher used to warn me about flirts like you. She said they can ruin lives.” She held up her wounded hand. “I kind of see her point.”

Maple’s eyes darted to the bandages and back. “Your hand will be fine,” she said. “That potion I gave you will see to that.”

“Now how is a _potion_ going to do that?” said Anna, annoyed.

“Magic!” said Maple brightly, her eyes lighting up.

“Oh, magic,” said Anna, rolling her eyes. It was so absurd Anna had to laugh. “Witches, giants.” Anna shook her head. “What has my life become?”

A few minutes later, and the pain had indeed completely disappeared from Anna’s arm. Maple removed the bandage gingerly. “See? No wound.” Anna looked, and indeed, there was no wound at all – only a faint scar that ran across the width of her palm. She flexed her hand, and all seemed to be in working order.

“No wound,” repeated Anna.

Maple nodded. “The cut was nasty before. You did catch a sword in your hand, after all; he cut right to the bone. The pain must have been unbearable as well. To be honest, freckles, I’m not sure how you did it.”

She might have meant it to be complimentary, but a chill ran down Anna’s spine just the same. “Me either,” she shrugged, shivering. She attempted to smile. “Thanks for healing me up.”

“Hey, this isn’t exactly _gratis_ , remember,” said Maple, wagging a finger. “One way or another, you’re gonna owe me. I’m a businesswoman after all, not some sentimental softie.”

Whatever Maple was, she was helpful, there was no use denying that. She helped Anna out of her cot and asked, not once, but twice if Anna was _really sure_ that she wanted to go through with the remainder of the tournament. Anna waved off her concern and insisted she would see it through, even though the encounter with the Giant had indeed been a very close shave. In particular, she knew she had yielded, or tried to – and yet he kept coming. She only hoped that wouldn’t happen again.

Still, the caution born of fear had her asking about it. “Did you hear me shout ‘yield,’ Maple?”

“During the last fight?” she questioned. “We all did. I think it would have disqualified you, but someone has to proceed from every round, and the Giant is too short by a head to move on.”

“I didn’t mean to kill him,” said Anna, feeling a little sick at the memory.

“I’m sure you didn’t, freckles, but he’d have done you no better. Frankly, I’m glad you had the stomach to defend yourself. So, since he didn’t accept your yield, and then died anyway, the master of games agreed that you move on to the final round.”

“Okay.” Anna nodded, and took a deep breath to steady herself. She went over to the basin to cup a handful of water and splash her face. She looked again into the reflective waters of the bowl. It had been a long time since she had a good, long look at herself. Briefly, she was reminded of the stream of her youth, where she collected berries and met Kristoff and Sven by the crossing. When she was young, her face was round and slightly freckled. Everyone always said she smiled with her whole face – her mouth, cheeks, nose, and eyes.

Now, she had the queerest sense that a stranger was staring back at her. Her face was leaner now, her mouth a thin line, her hard eyes the palest turquoise. Her upper cheeks and nose were dusted heavily with freckles. There was no smile anywhere. Her hair, once always wild and free, was now tied down but for a few loose strands. A chill pricked her skin, and she closed her eyes. Visions of endless snowy fields filled her mind, dotted with lumps and lumps of snow, growing taller and taller…

“Pardon?” came Maple’s voice.

Anna opened her eyes with a start, and turned away from the basin. Her forehead throbbed. “I’m sorry?”

Maple lifted an eyebrow at her. “Did you just say something?”

Anna returned the look. “Didn’t you?”

Maple blinked several times, and then shrugged. “Must be my imagination. Anyway, your last challenge is coming up. Are you really, _really_ sure you’re ready?”

Anna bit her lip for half a moment, and then nodded. “Yes. Absolutely. Who is my final opponent?”

“Your final opponent may yet prove a bit tricky. He’s a man of some renown in the kingdom, a battle-hardened captain. He goes by the name Ser Tore Seastone.”

“Ser Tore?” repeated Anna with a jolt. “The marshal of Arendelle? Hero of the Weselton War?”

“The very same,” said Maple. Just then, the entry flap to the tent burst open, and Kristoff and Martin stumbled in.

“You’re alive!” exclaimed Martin, out of breath.

“Yes,” said Anna, and she scratched the back of her neck, abashed. “Sorry if I gave you a scare.”

Martin shook his head. “I knew you’d win, I just knew it.”

“Easy, tiger, she hasn’t won yet,” said Kristoff flatly. He addressed Anna: “They’re ready for you when you are. The final match.”

Anna looked at him for a long moment, and then nodded. “Very good. I just need to put on my armor.” She shed her tunic and went to fetch her under-armor. Kristoff cleared his throat and quickly excused himself from the tent.

Maple laughed lightly, and Anna looked at her. “What’s so funny?”

“You just stripped topless in front of that boy,” giggled Maple. “What, were you raised in a barn?”

“A forest, actually,” said Anna, annoyed, and she pulled an undertunic on over her head. “What difference does it make?”

“Aren’t you worried you’ll give him some ideas?” asked Maple, her voice sweetened with amusement.

Anna blinked. “It’s not my responsibility what ideas he chooses to get into his head,” she said starkly. “Besides, I’ve known Kristoff since… well, since forever.”

Maple shrugged. “Don’t underestimate the propensity of teenage boys to be teenage boys.” She cast her eyes on Martin. “Might want to be careful of this one, too.”

Martin reddened. “I don’t- I’m not- I’m her squire!” he sputtered.

Maple cocked her head and narrowed her eyes at the boy. “On second thought, he might be okay.”

Anna looked between the two of them, utterly bemused. “Well, then,” she said. “I still need to get ready, so…”

Maple helped her into her armor. Anna noticed that her left glove had a huge gash across the palm, but there was nothing to be done for it. She placed the antlered helmet on her head and took up Autumn and strapped it to her side. “Your shield is gone,” Martin reminded her dourly. Her gift from the trolls.

“I don’t suppose you can magick me up a second shield?” Anna asked Maple.

The witch shook her head. “Not on such short notice. And not for nothing, neither.”

Anna frowned, and fingered Autumn’s hilt idly. “I suppose I’ll have to go shieldless, then.” That put her at a significant disadvantage, since Autumn’s short length meant it would be difficult to control the tide of battle without a shield to aid in blocking.

“You could use the Giant’s sword,” offered Martin, as if he had read her thoughts.

“I could,” said Anna slowly. “But it’s five feet long and probably heavy to match.”

“That didn’t stop you from cutting off his head!”

Anna went over to where the Giant’s sword was laying, on the rushes in a greasy wood-and-leather scabbard. She picked it up, and to her surprise, it was not as heavy as she was lead to imagine. It was just as long, though, its length almost as great as her height.

“If it were a foot shorter, it would be good,” said Anna, and she handed the sword to Martin. “Put this away, would y-”

No sooner did she hand over the sword than it dropped to the ground, Martin’s arms folding like a house of cards as the thing clattered to the rushes in a great hurry. Martin blushed furiously. “Sorry!” he gasped. “It was just heavier than I expected.”

Maple raised an eyebrow and went to pick up the sword. She hefted it in both hands. “That is much heavier than a normal sword,” she admitted. She handed it to Martin, who this time accepted it more graciously.

Anna stared. “Wait,” she said, and took the sword from Martin. She rotated it in her hands, grabbed the handle to try its feel. It didn’t seem all that unwieldy, though it was heavier than Autumn by far. The length would be a little odd, but she was using three-foot sticks since she was only a foot taller than that. Might as well give it a try. She unbuckled Autumn and turned it over to Martin. “Since I won’t have a shield anyway, I might as well use a dedicated two-handed weapon.”

It was with that sword in hand that she stood on the edge of the arena for what she knew was the last time either way. The crowd was cheering for the Flower Knight, with occasional yells for “Tore the Bloody” piercing the din. She knew not what they would call her at the end of the day, when she removed her helmet. For the first time that day, she thought about the consequence of losing. Her wrist tingled at the imagined sensation of the handchopper’s axe coming down. She smiled faintly when she thought of Maple’s losing condition. Plus one kiss, minus one hand. She didn’t think the math worked out there.

If she won, though…

She stepped into the arena, and raised the Giant’s Knife in salute to the queen. Her expression seemed changed somewhat compared to earlier, though how exactly Anna couldn’t tell. Was that admiration – or fear?

Across the arena, Ser Tore stepped in as well. He was a graying man now, his beard and hair more salt than the pepper she remembered from her youth. He wore a beaten iron halfhelm, a drab sea green leather vest, and chainmail, but no cloak. You wouldn’t know him to be the second most powerful man in the kingdom to look at him. Both of his hands were wrapped around the handle of a long, _blue_ sword.

Anna’s eyes lingered on that sword. It wasn’t a bright blue, not really, but it was unmistakable. It seemed to glow a pallid lightning color. Anna thought she could hear a faint, dull hum being emitted by the blade. The hilt was finely carved onyx with a grip of polished black leather, and the pommel was a stone that seemed to alternate between flashing lime and teal.

Ser Tore also saluted the queen with his sword, and assumed a ready, low posture. Anna raised the Giant’s Knife in a high guard. The master of games yelled: “Knights, bare steel and fight!”

They approached across the arena, apace, each eyeing the other intently. When they stood no more than three yards apart, Ser Tore bowed his head slightly and began the attack.

A low guard, thought Anna – no problem. She blocked his attack from on high, but was surprised to see him spin it into another sudden strike. It was all she could do to block. The length of the Knife ought to mean she had a decisive edge in reach, but she was on the defensive and Ser Tore was as fast an opponent as any she had ever fought.

His steel kept coming, and Anna kept blocking, turning her knife against his blows in every moment. She had no opportunities to launch counterattacks, and once – no, twice – Ser Tore landed ringing blows on her armor. The second hit her helmet, and the bang echoed in her ears.

A third hit, on her left side. Suddenly she felt a little queasy, and a little jittery. She was beginning to feel numb. She blinked and tried to focus and push away the feeling. The hum was louder now.

She looked at his sword and its blue glow. “That sword,” she said, aloud. “How does it glow?”

He swiped again, and she blocked it. “You mean to tell me you don’t know?” he asked, his voice gruff and quiet. “’Tis electrinum.”

_Electrinum._ That rang a bell. Anders – no, Astrid – one of them had mentioned it once. A rare metal, difficult to mine and more difficult to work, but you could run it in the steel of a sword to make a blade that channeled electricity.

Of course. That blade would run through any suit of armor through the duration of a duel. Every hit he scores on the armor will weaken the joints and reflexes of the person wearing it. It was a clever notion, but more importantly, it meant she had little time to dally – the stamina advantage was Ser Tore’s.

Another swipe. Block. They kept going back and forth. The Giant’s Knife was getting heavy. Any more hits by that blue sword, and she wondered if she’d still be able to lift it. Another swipe. Block. _Where is my opening? Astrid always said I needed to be more aggressive._ Swipe. Block – swipe. Clang. Right on the shoulder.

She backed up several paces, and attempted to loosen up her joints and shoulder. She cracked her neck, and brandished the Giant’s Knife again. She adopted a low guard this time – a high guard was for smaller swords. With the length of the Knife, she could block from low without losing an advantage.

Swipe. Swipe. He was striking from up high, now. Block, block, left and right, swipe – that one is too high. He connected again, her right side. Her chest convulsed, and she drew a staggering breath. _Can electrinum kill?_ she thought in a moment’s panic. Must she simply yield?

The thought was too much to bear. With a yell, she charged, and slashed back. This time the reach advantage forced him to retreat. He kept her blows at bay, grunting, and attacked the moment she let up. She went back on the defensive, discipline forcing her to reply to his blows. Block, block, clang – he connected again. The Giant’s Knife was growing quite heavy.

_What am I doing wrong?_ she wondered. _Is he simply too fast, too strong for me?_ Astrid always warned her that there was always a better fighter in the world, somewhere, no matter how good you thought you were.

“So there is no ‘the best,’ then?” she remembered asking with a coy smile.

“Never for very long,” Astrid replied. “It’s fighters all the way down.”

She wondered how Astrid would fight Ser Tore. Her style was different from Anna’s – she always taught Anna to be defensive and to focus on good fundamentals, but she herself was something of a wild card when it came to fighting. Any weapon, any style, and she would simply have at it. The old Berkish style – an axe in both hands. Just wave them around and you’re bound to hit something.

“Complete buffonery,” Astrid had said. “But there’s something to it. A good offense is the best defense, after all.”

_I know I need to go on the offense, but where is my opening?_ He came again. _Where is his opening? Is he just faster?_ She blocked. _He’s making his own openings, but he can because of his speed…_

The Knife seemed a little less heavy all of a sudden. _His speed._ Maybe he is faster, but she brought the Giant’s Knife. As long as she could hold it and swing it, she had reach. _And reach is most important._ She attacked, again and again. Every swing, the drab knight seemed to back up a little, and the Knife seemed to get a little lighter. _I’ll make my own openings, too._

He seemed to have the same idea, and attempted counterattack after counterattack, but Anna was relentless. Sweat dripped from her brow and stung her eyes, but that only impelled her forward. Up high, down low; now, the other way. He was on the defense. She gave a heave, he parried and slipped through, his blade coming right at her – and she ducked, rolled, and now she was close. Up – her blade found his crossguard and dislodged the blue sword from his hand. One sword between them now – and she held it, panting heavily all the while.

He looked dumbstruck. The drab knight gritted his teeth, and nodded his head ever so slightly. “I yield,” he announced.

The roar was deafening. All around the lists, the cry went up. She held the Knife up, and they cheered the louder. Peasants, nobles, knights, merchants and foreigners alike all took up the cheer. “Flower Knight! Flower Knight!” From the stands, the onlookers threw things onto the arena – some fruit, but mostly streamers and even flowers.

Anna listened to the roaring cheers, her heart pounding. _They cheer now,_ she thought. _Now. I have given them a show. But the real show…_ She turned her head, and saw Martin and Maple standing at the arena’s edge. Martin was holding Autumn in his hands, clutching it like a lifeline. She beckoned to him, and exchanged the Knife. _I need Autumn in my hands for this moment,_ she thought, and she turned again to face the queen’s box. Her sword, still in its sheath, seemed to thrum in her grip.

The queen still looked down, her smile betraying nothing but that same cautious optimism. The master of games raised his arms to the sky and cried: “The mystery knight has won! To him, ten thousand gold flakes, and the queen’s audience!” Those in the box parted, and Anna walked up until she stood mere feet away from the Queen of Arendelle, Her Eminence, Her Radiance, Her Majesty, and, if grace was good this day, her liege lord.

The Flower Knight knelt before the queen, Autumn resting point first against the ground, as the audience went on cheering. The queen raised a hand, and the cheering died down quickly. Queen Elsa smiled. “You have fought valiantly today, mystery knight. ‘The Flower Knight,’ they call you?”

Anna played this moment, and others, over in her head a thousand times before. Living it out seemed unreal. She hoped she could keep her voice steady. “A humble name, if it please your majesty,” she boomed from her greathelm. “None fear the flower.”

“On the contrary, none must have allergies, then,” said the queen with a light laugh. Anna’s heart fluttered like a tiny fat bird with littler wings. “Where are you from, brave ser knight?”

“Burrowstown, Your Majesty,” said Anna.

“Burrowstown? That is surprising to hear. I visited that town once myself. Are you a knight in service to His Lordship, Edward Burrows, then?”

_Never_ , thought Anna; but she said, “No, Your Majesty. I am a hedge-knight.”

“Ah, very good,” said the queen. “Well, mayhaps we can change that, today.”

_I was hoping you would say that,_ thought Anna, her heart pounding faster than ever. “Your Majesty is gracious.”

The queen shook her head. “You have earned it, brave ser knight. Would you be so kind as to lift your helmet that we may gaze upon our champion and know his name?”

Anna hesitated. “If it please Your Majesty, may I have your word that my request shall be granted no matter my visage or form?”

The queen’s face stilled, and she gave Anna a quizzical look. “Of course. I keep my word.” She cracked a smile. “Even the ugliest of knights may be granted titles, you know.”

Anna could have laughed, but the jape felt hollow. Oh, if only she were merely ugly. But no, she was a woman, and was like as not to be behanded or beheaded for this. Still, she had the queen’s word, and that was as good as it got.

“Stand, brave ser knight, and let us see your face!” cried Queen Elsa.

The Flower Knight stood straight up, Autumn in her right hand. She noticed those arrayed there, now: on either side of the queen, her Royal Guardsmen – sworn to protect and serve Her Majesty. And there was Ser Tore, now in the box. _I wonder what his request would have been?_

With her left hand, she grasped the bottom lip of her antlered helmet, and lifted. It came away in one fluid motion, and her left hand settled down at her side once more. She felt the breeze on her face still damp with sweat; the tendrils of wind played with the loose strands of her hair, dancing on the drifts. “I am Anna,” she declared, “from Burr– from the Wolfswood.”

A deafening silence gained the crowd. The queen’s box was all shocked faces – the guardsmen, Ser Tore, the attendant lords and ladies – and Queen Elsa, whose jaw had dropped, whose face had acquired a deathly pallor. She gripped the arms of her chair, her knuckles whitening visibly against her pale, pale skin.

Suddenly, Ser Tore boomed with laughter. He doubled over, his eyes scrunched shut, as wheeze after wheeze of loud, harsh cackle poured out of his mouth. “Beaten by a girl!” he roared. “And a whelp! Ahahaha!”

“She killed the Giant!” came another voice in the crowd, awestruck.

“And beat the prince!”

“And Tore the Bloody!”

Murmurs were scattering like cockroaches through the rushes. Faces plastered with awe gaped at her from all the stands.

A yelp burst forth from the queen’s box, and a small, thin man in a black-and-red doublet stood up on his chair. He wore gold-rimmed glass lenses over his eyes, and had a thick, bushy gray mustache. His head was bald except for a slight crown of gray around the fringes. His jaw was wide, his cheeks sallow, his eyes angry.

“This is an outrage!” he half-squeaked, half-croaked, like a mouse that had lived for centuries. “Is this the way things are done in Arendelle? Don’t you even check if your mystery knights are male?”

“That would rather defeat the point of the mystery, wouldn’t it?” came a cool voice from behind him. The speaker was a tall, middle-aged woman with long, blue eyelashes and waves of tumbled, jet-black hair, clad in an elaborate dress of black and blue velvet.

“I didn’t come all this way to be insulted!” he cried.

“You’ve come further for less,” snapped Ser Tore. “Your champion was felled by the Giant, which, I suppose, would mark the _second_ time that man foiled your plans. By the gods, you ought to thank the girl for slaying him.”

“You would bring that up with me? I _paid_ the indemnities, you jumped-up cur!” screamed the little man, his eyes bulging at the old marshal.

“He’s right!” came another voice, thick and low, spoken by a fat woman in red, white, and black. “You cannot allow this travesty to go unpunished. OFF WITH HER HEAD!”

“The law is the law – the winner of the tournament…”

“Laws? She _broke_ the law!”

“She’s from Burrowstown. You know Burrowstown, the Burrows family is always hiring female sellswords…”

“The right to mystery knight is a sacred right…”

“For _men_ , not wo…”

“SILENCE!” Queen Elsa’s voice burst around the lists like shattering ice. She slammed her fist against the arm of her chair. “I will not permit this senseless squabbling on the day of my coronation. I gave this competitor my word, and my word is ice. I shall not break it.” The queen studied Anna with a cool, hard gaze, the shadow of pain that Anna saw before once more visible. “What is your request, mystery knight? I promise, no harm will come of you.”

Anna let out a small, quiet sigh of relief. She dipped her head, and spoke quickly: “Your Majesty, I have only one thing to ask of you. It is a great thing, but I hope you will see by the strength of my arm and the lengths I have gone to participate today” – an audible scoff – “that my resolve is great.”

Queen Elsa nodded. “What do you desire? Lands? Money?”

Anna lifted her eyes to meet the queen’s. “High office, Your Majesty.”

The queen gripped the sides of her chair again, eyes widening. There was something in those eyes, those pools of crystal water, that icy gaze – a pleading note, reluctant, _afraid._

“Your Majesty,” Anna went on, “I would swear my sword and my service to you. I would be your woman.” Anna dropped her helmet and placed a clenched fist against her heart. “I would be your Lord Protector, and shield you from harm, and serve you as your most leal knight and subject.”

Silence again. A man to the queen’s right spoke up, a thick-necked man with a big shelf of a nose. His voice was gentle: “Your Grace, you cannot grant this request…”

The queen waved him to silence. “I gave my word, Kai,” she said in a shuddering voice, almost weary. “I gave my word; I have no choice.”

The short man with the gold lenses piped up. “Impudent wench! She presumes–”

Queen Elsa’s voice cut him off like a shearing icicle, suddenly sharp and biting. “She presumes _nothing._ ” She glared at the man with cold, hard eyes. “She has proved her skill at arms and won the tourney. I will not suffer to hear any more slights against her, nor any more of your interruptions this day.” The short man turned red as a beet, and the queen looked at Anna and set her jaw. “You are sure of this, mystery knight? You know what you ask?”

Anna nodded dumbly. “To serve Your Majesty is all I ever wanted.”

The queen gave her an odd look, and then closed her eyes and issued a heavy sigh. She looked tired, and old; older than her age. As Anna stared at the young queen, she noticed a small sprinkling of freckles on her upper cheeks, barely visible despite the light color of her skin. That was appropriate: even her freckles had the good grace to hide themselves, like so many blushing beauties behind pale masks. And she saw pain, there, too; pain in the lines of her mouth, cheek, and eyes, the result of a young face stretched by fatigue and stress. “I gave my word,” the queen said quietly, almost to herself. “Very well. It shall be done. Hand me your sword.”

Slowly, Anna handed Autumn to the queen, hilt first, and the queen accepted it with a trembling grasp. There was no noise, only the scrape of steel on leather as the folded steel blade drew free of its scabbard; and the blowing of the wind, now cold; very, very cold.

“Kneel, please.” Anna took a knee. The queen spoke with a voice of burnished steel, practice and discipline cracking the unsteady floes of the moments prior. “Do you promise to serve me faithfully, to do all that I ask, to not conspire against me, to never raise a hand against me, to keep my trust and to exercise my will?”

“I do.”

“Do you swear that you will fight tirelessly against mine and the kingdom’s enemies, to defend the weak and innocent, to be a good and honest knight, and to protect and serve me and to be thou for the people?”

Anna’s heart was in her ears. She couldn’t believe this was really happening. “I do,” she choked, her throat dry.

“Do you pledge to keep this oath as long as you live?”

“I do.”

“Then swear it.”

“I swear it.”

She felt Autumn’s tip on her shoulder. “Then I dub thee… Ser Anna, Knight of Crystalwater, Lord Protector of the Kingdom of Arendelle.” The other shoulder. “Now, rise a knight, Ser Anna.”

Anna stood, slowly, and was met with Autumn’s hilt. “Take your sword,” said the queen, her voice almost a whisper, carried on the wind now colder than winter. “And fulfill your oath.”

Anna accepted the sword. “Yes, my queen.” Autumn flashed orange and red in the late afternoon sun, and Anna blinked away the sweat and tears.

 

 


	11. The Fish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to split this next chapter in half. That said, it's still pretty long. Thanks for the kind words and reviews, you are all wonderful.

The morning was cold and dark, as most December mornings are. Ser Anna pulled her cloak more tightly around her shoulders as she braved the walkway cut white and dark with razor wind. Below, distant, were the sounds of shouts and greetings. She pushed open a heavy oaken door and sidled through the entryway.

Her squire, Martin, was dozing outside of her chambers, the only light in the stone hallway that of two low-burning torches in dull metal sconces. “Martin.” She woke him by tapping his shin with the tip of her boot. He started, and rubbed his eyes. “I must needs don my armor. Meet me in my solar.” The boy nodded stiffly and went to it.

She entered her chambers, passing through the solar into the living room where she draped her cloak over a wooden peg, stopping at the vanity to remove a brass taper from a fat tallow candle. She lit the candle, then kicked off her boots and wriggled out of her tunic and changed into a quilted doublet and padded fur breeches. She pulled the hairtie out of her hair and then, at the vanity, threw her hands into the water basin and ran wet fingers through her copper locks. She irritatedly yanked out a white hair that fell over her right eye.

Martin arrived with her armor and swordbelt. She armored up in green-enameled tempered plates of Svithron steel that fit her form like a glove, her cuirass a tough emerald green plate wrought with patterns of golden vines. Her squire handed her a large, steel shield, embossed and enameled with her heraldry: a golden crocus on a field of green.

“How went m’lady’s meeting?” asked Martin.

“Poorly. Has the queen awoken yet?”

“Yes, m’lady.” Anna finished putting on her steel gauntlets, two green lobsters chased with gold. She slung the shield on her back. The squire went on, “She has taken to the baths, and afterwards she will go to the throne room to hold court.”

Anna sighed under her breath and sat. Martin slid her greaves on – also green, well-jointed and comfortable, snowproofed and lined with fur. “I thought she would not wake for another hour hence. Who has the watch?”

“Flynt and Tazzie – erm, Ser Tazmus, m’lady.” Martin wrapped a cloak over her shoulders, green with gold embroidery, emblazoned with her gold crocus sigil. He pinned it at the gorget with two golden crocus pins.

She nodded. “Good. I will go see them.” She stood again, her armor clinking softly, her cloak rustling, and she exited for her room once more. She took up Autumn from its resting place on her bed, and turned to leave, stopping only to look at the vanity.She stared, and the red-haired, green-clad Lady Protector stared back at her. The courtiers sometimes called her, variously, elegant and fiercely beautiful, like the warrior princesses of old Svithron. Anna knew little of what to make of these compliments. What use were elegance and beauty for a knight in Her Majesty’s service?

Now, looking at her second self in the mirror, even those words seemed hollow. Her face seemed drawn and thin, her eyes listless and weary, her mouth arranged in a constant frown. The courtiers said other things, too, when they were not sure of her hearing: rumors and whispers. Small wonder the queen kept her away.

 _Away_ , yes. And that second self in the mirror knew it, too. _Away._ When late nights plagued her with troubled dreams and woke her, panting and sweating, in the gloom, she’d lay awake and think back to the moment it all went wrong, when she _messed up_ , when the gulf appeared, and when she felt the barbs and stings that no armor could repel. She cast her mind back, like a line, the hook baited with all her uncertainty and jealous desire for recognition, seeking the answer to the question of  _why, why, why?_

 

* * *

 

The newly knighted Ser Anna woke in a feather bed with soft white sheets and soft down pillows and a mattress stuffed with the feathers of forty-‘leven geese that took a whole bolt of cloth for the lick. The revelry of the evening prior weighed down on her heavily, and she groaned in remembrance of last night’s feast, generous fare glistening sweetly with grease and honey. Roast goldgoose, suckling piglings, spiced snaketail… And the wine. Anna had never before taken to indulging much in the grape, but _Ser_ Anna was a different story. How could she say “no” when the lords and ladies insisted so kindly, and so _often?_

Anna slid out of the bed and into a pair of light feather slippers, her head rat-tat-tatting like a drummer boy. The rooms she had been given were that of the Lord Protector’s quarters – well, that was _Lady_ Protector now. It was odd to think that two weeks and some change prior, these rooms were where the legendary Lord Erik Ulfton had lived, about whom she had heard much though never chanced to meet. _If I can live up to half his legacy, it will be enough._

Her bedroom was spacious and comfortable. The feather bed was huge and draped all around with blue and purple canopies, and sat opposite a large triangular window that overlooked the fjord. Anna swayed over to the window and leaned on the sill, chin squarely in the palms of her hands, and sighed contentedly. She could feel the smile on her face, the warm in her cheeks from the dappled sunlight of the morning glow. The ships on the harbor were going and coming in their patient way, pennants and colors flapping in the breeze, bells ringing faintly. The city looked peaceful, serene, quiet. Below, in the castle courtyards, the striped pavilions of the Arenborg’s many guests billowed with the waking of the day.

She pushed herself away from the sill and stretched her back and arms, then slipped out of her night clothes to fish a tunic and breeches from her dresser. She pulled them on and went to the vanity to finish the morning’s grooming, at last pulling her hair into a single wavy ponytail.

Emerging from her bedroom at last, she found Martin waiting in her solar, dozing in a cushioned chair by the unlit hearth. Her solar was a spacious room with a wide window along one wall and a hearth in another, and featured several comfy chairs that serviced a sturdy oak table. Along the walls in the gaps and crannies were cupboards, dressers, and arms racks that, Anna figured, one time held the trophies and belongings of the late Lord Protector. They were empty now, but for Maple’s armor and the Giant’s Knife. Autumn, of course, she kept in her room to sleep besides.

“Martin!” she called, half-singing, half-laughing. “By the gods, Martin, what are you doing in here? Don’t you have a more comfortable bed to doze in?”

Martin rubbed his eyes and blinked awake. “Anna! I’m sorry, I just – I didn’t know when you’d rise, and I wanted to be ready to serve you whenever that was.”

She waved him off. “Don’t be silly. I can serve myself well enough.”

Martin frowned a little. “Anna, you’re officially a knight now. Oh – I suppose that means I must call you Ser Anna. B-But, now that you’re an official knight, I’m an official squire, and squires have duties…”

She laughed. “Yes, that much is true. But today the queen is holding court. I am to attend at her side, and your time is your own.”

Martin scratched the back of his neck. “What should I do?”

Anna shrugged. “I’m sure there are some practice ranges, if you want to loose some shafts. Maybe you could meet some of the other squires.”

The mention of archery perked Martin up. “You think so?” he asked.

Anna smiled, and nodded. “I certainly do.”

She returned to her bedroom where she found Autumn lying on the bed. She took it up, swordbelt and all, and cradled it in her hands. It felt at peace – happy, almost, in her hands.

The Queen’s Tower was a tall structure, second tallest in the Arenborg next to the Tower of Arendelle. In it were the royal quarters, consisting of several rooms, though Queen Elsa only used her personal bedroom and the queen’s solar.Directly below was the Lord Protector’s quarters, complete with auxiliary quartering for a squire or squires; below that was the tower atrium that led to the entry walkway. The Queen’s Tower was almost perfectly isolated from the rest of the Arenborg, but for the walkway that led from its base to the castle proper.

Last evening, before the feast, Ser Tore Seastone bid her take a knee and recite the Lord Protector’s pledge before the queen. It was different, and longer, than the words that the queen made her swear, and before long she had lost track of all the different things she had sworn. The highlights were clear, though: do as the queen bids, protect her with your life, and show no mercy to her enemies.

“The line of Arendelle continues,” said Ser Tore solemnly, as he finished the pledge.

“The line of Arendelle continues,” repeated Ser Anna, and she stood before the queen. “My sword is yours, Your Grace.”

The queen had no looked at her, her eyes cast down at her own hands, which she flexed with a queer disinterest. They flickered upwards and she only then seemed to notice Anna for the first time. “I thank you, brave ser knight. I will wield it well.”

Ann knocked on the door to the queen’s solar. “Come in,” came a voice, and she walked in. A wave of doubt crashed over her as she entered the round, high-ceilinged room with its plush and fine furniture, blue rushes and blue walls and the blue-dressed queen sat starkly in a blue cushioned chair, head turned slightly to one side to regard the blue shades and blue windows that streamed in the pale blue light of the morning. “Sit,” said Queen Elsa, and she indicated a chair opposite her, before the unlit hearth.

Anna sat gingerly, hand playing with the hilt of her sword. Almost immediately she realized her mistake, and jumped out of her seat to kneel awkwardly before the queen. “My liege,” she said, and her head shot up and back down as she didn’t know how or when to pull out of her bow.

Queen Elsa looked puzzled, the corner of her eyes crinkled in – was that amusement? “You may sit, you know. I said as much.”

Anna flushed, and clumsily stood up to sit back down in the chair. “I – yes, my queen, of course, forgive my – erm, please, if you would, that is, forgive my, erm, lack of discretion.”

To her surprise, the queen laughed. “Relax, ser. I promise you will not find me wroth today.” She paused for a moment, looking Anna in the eyes before she turned her gaze back to the window. “I gave you my word that you would be my Lord Protector. Yet, I find I know precious little about you. And I…” She flexed her hands, and then wrung them together, her voice faltering slightly. “I find I am quite curious. About your life, and about who you are.”

“Oh,” said Anna, quietly. When the queen said nothing more, still only looking at the window, she dared to speak. “I am afraid Your Grace would not find my life very interesting. I am little more than a peasant girl from the sticks.” She smiled weakly.

The queen gave her a cool look, her eyes grown flinty for a second. “Who told you that?” she whispered.

“Someone I met on the road,” said Anna, and then she remembered. “Ah – Your Grace, there is something you should know…”

Anna regaled the queen with the story of her encounter with Ser Magnus, and the beast on the Springway. Her countenance fell, and by the time Anna got to Ser Magnus’s death, the queen looked troubled, almost hurt. “Ser Magnus was a good knight, loyal and true,” she said. “I am sorry to hear of his demise.”

“He died in service to a good cause, Your Grace,” said Anna. “I can attest to his valor in battle.”

The queen frowned, her face casting a dubious shadow. “For all that valor, he is dead. What kind of good cause kills good men?”

Anna frowned too. “The cause of Your Grace’s safety.” She explained the purpose of the sellswords on the road, and produced the Weselton badge that she had retrieved from the sellsword’s jerkin, which caused the queen to stand up abruptly.

“This matter must be brought before the council at once,” she said, and Anna stood up too. “I will convene a meeting immediately.” The queen gave Anna a hesitant look. “Please, attend me, ser. You are my Lady Protector, after all. It is tradition that the Protector shadows the monarch at all times.”

Anna let herself smile at that, the worry of the sellswords now seeming like a trifle. _With me at her side, no enemy will so much as scratch the queen!_ She patted Autumn’s hilt for luck, and said, “As Your Grace commands.”

They departed for the council room, with couriers dispatched to summon the small council. The council room was a cozy round room with a heavy table of burnished wood and a big stone hearth flanked by shuttered glass windows. A small fire was burning in the hearth, casting long black shadows across the room, and one by one the councilmembers showed up and took their seats around the table. By tradition, the Lord Protector sat at the ruler’s right hand. Ser Tore sat at her other hand.

The queen had wine brought in, a dry Lutetian red. Anna cast a glance around the room. There was the Master of Letters, Kai, a stout man with a big nose, jowly cheeks, and a band of ginger hair; there was the middle-aged Lady Ysmir in her black and blue dress and faint scowls, the Royal Spymaster; there was the Marshal Ser Tore, of course; the Lord High Admiral,the enormously fat Lord Hugoss, who was charged with the maintenance and deployment of the nation’s navies, and was presently hard at work on his second cup of wine; Lord Joakim Myles, the Lord High Steward, with his burgundy robes, sloped shoulders, and easy smile; Ser Wendel Bigsby, a short man with close, black hair, the lowborn Captain of the Watch and a master of disgruntled expressions; Master Sydney Penrose, the young Court Wizard with a twitching eye and unruly shock of white-gold hair; and the Court Sacern, Sissil Morey, a godswife of the southern religion, with broad shoulders and hard features and an unkillable thirst for wine, as Anna had learned the night previous.

Queen Elsa bid the council listen to Ser Anna, who stood and told, for the second time, of her encounter on the Springway. Her story quieted the small council, and they shared uneasy glances with one another when she threw the Weselton badge down on the table. Only Lady Ysmir seemed outright dubious.

“You mean to tell us that Weselton mercenaries charged with killing the king and queen were traipsing about north of _Vardale,_ and they just happened to come upon Ser Magnus with the Bastard of Beast’s Keep at their beck and call?” Lady Ysmir asked, with no shortage of incredulous looks.

“It is as my lady says,” replied Anna. “The bastard felled Ser Magnus. He fought valiantly, but in the end succumbed to the beast’s bite. That badge I found sewn to one of sellswords’s jerkin.”

“The bastard felled Ser Magnus, did he? I thought you said the mercenaries were all killed?”

“I did say that, my lady,” said Anna, her voice flat. “I killed them.”

“All of them?” Lord Hugoss asked into the following disquiet.

“All of them.”

Lady Ysmir snorted. “A likely story, but I wonder, is it _more_ likely than you slaying the castellan yourself, and then inventing some cockamamie nonsense about beastmen?”

Lord Myles chuckled. “You were there, my lady. You saw the new Lady Protector savage one competitor after another. Three mercenaries and a beastman are as fodder to the Prince and the Giant.”

“The gods watch over her,” said Sissil Morey solemnly.

Lord Hugoss exhaled loudly. “Good thing she’s on our side, right?” he guffawed, and downed his fourth cup of wine.

Ser Wendel leaned over and whispered something into the Court Wizard’s ear, and he snickered.

Anna frowned. “It is as I tell it, my lords. If you doubt the truth of my words, you can see for yourself. I laid a grave for Ser Magnus and the inn where I slew the sellswords is not far north of there.”

Lady Ysmir wrinkled her nose. “Very well, then. I shall arrange a party to go investigate. And I should like it if _you_ led them.”

The queen shot Lady Ysmir a dark look. “My lady, since when are Lord Protectors meant to leave their charges absent?”

“Since they are suspects for murder,” countered Lady Ysmir. “A Lord Protector is a great thing to have, as long as they aren’t themselves a threat to the queen’s health and safety.”

The queen frowned, and for a second looked like she meant to reply, when Anna cut in. “I will go,” she said with a curt nod.

Lady Ysmir nodded back. “Master Penrose should attend you, as well. He can exhume the body and identify the remains.”

The Court Wizard grinned and waggled his finger. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, together.”

Breakfast was brought in, and they ate tender sausages, boiled eggs, and golden bread with jam and berries with cream. They talked amongst themselves of the festivities of the night prior, and each took every available opportunity to praise the queen’s grace and beauty – compliments she accepted with pleasant smiles and gentle inclinations of the head.

At one point, Lord Hugoss sat next to Anna and bid her ear. “My Lady Protector, I would have words, if it please you?”

“Oh, my lord?” Lord Hugoss was amiable enough, and often dressed in navy blues that bore the gold five-pointed star of House Hugoss on the front. However, he smelled of sweat, and had a habit of constantly dabbing at his forehead with a white silk handkerchief. Furthermore, he took every available opportunity the night previous to brag of his three sons, and how likely they were, and how he meaned to marry them well – which, Anna assumed, meant that he considered them likely suitors for her.

Anna knew she ought to be flattered, given her lowborn status, but being the Knight of Crystalwater and Lady Protector besides bespoke a certain amount of prestige in its own right. She was also not quite at ease with the concept of marrying in general. _I am a sworn sword pledged to the service of the queen. What room is there in that for a wife or husband?_ Still, she bore the fat lord’s attentions with good humor.

“Aye, I only wanted to say, again, that you acquitted yourself nobly in the fights yesterday. I told you of my son, my second son – he is a knight, and I think a very skilled warrior, but it’s more than a sure thing you’d give him a run for his money.” Anna smiled politely. That was no faint praise, she knew – Lord Hugoss seemed reluctant to admit his sons weren’t the absolute best at at least one thing each. It was also praise she had heard before, as Lord Hugoss drunkenly said as much every fifteen minutes during last night’s feast.

This called for humility. “Thank you, my lord, though I only fought as I was taught.”

“You had a good teacher, then. Anyway, I couldn’t help noticing you don’t seem to be wearing your antler, erm, deer, erm, forest armor today. Pray, is there a reason for that?”

She frowned. “No, my lord. I only don’t expect to fight today.”

“Ah,” said Lord Hugoss, and he stroked his close-cropped blond beard with a hand. “Far be it from me to tell the Lady Protector her business, but as Captain of the Guard, it is considered a good thing to always be ready to fight. You never know when knives will emerge from the dark. That is something your predecessor said often, and why I always keep men about me.”

Anna was taken aback by this, embarrassed. _Of course, how foolish of me._ “I – you’re right, my lord. I didn’t consider that. I will armor anon-”

“No, no,” he interrupted her. “I didn’t ask merely to grill you, but to make you an offer. Consider it a gift, for winning the tournament, but obviously I’d need your cooperation. I know an armorer from north Svithron, they say he’s descended of dwarfs – I could have him make a suit of armor for you that was light as gold and strong as steel. That is, if you have need of such.”

Anna felt her jaw drop. “My lord, I – what would the expense of such be? I only have the tournament ransom as wealth to my name…”

“And ten thousand gold flakes! Or did you forget? But, no – I said this would be a gift, and I mean it. I will have the armorer come to the castle sometime next week to have you fitted. I won’t hear any ‘no’s, that is the end of it! Next week.” He seemed settled when a thought caused him to widen his eyes. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Pray, have you your heraldry, my lady?”

“My… heraldry, my lord?”

“Ah, I can see not. Please forgive me, I keep forgetting myself!” He dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. “Now that you have been risen to lordship, you must needs select your heraldry. A symbol, a sigil, if you will, that represents you and your name. It is necessary for all knights and lords.”

“Oh,” said Anna. “My lord, I have not selected a heraldry yet. I will do so posthaste, rest assured.”

The fat lord continued to talk for a little while, until the queen stood up, and the rest of the council room followed suit. They adjourned, and exited for the throne room, where the queen would hold court for the first time.

The throne room was a long hall lined with heavy pillars and tall windows, and sat near the top of the White Keep, which itself was nestled in the center of the Arenborg, flanked by the castle’s many tall towers. From the White Keep spired the magnificent Tower of Arendelle, hugely tall with blue-white bricks and octagonal walls, and crested by stained-glass windows that seemed to paint the city over with colored light. Only members of the royal family were allowed to enter the tower, Anna had learned when she asked about it. _A pity. I’m sure you can see for miles from up there._

But the throne room was not the tower, and all were allowed access. A long, red carpet led from the double doors at the end of the room to a high dais, upon which sat the stone throne: huge, gray, and highbacked, inlaid with elaborate designs of florid shapes and twisty curves. At the crest of it was the sharp relief of a six-pointed snowflake, imposing and dominant in the long hall.

The queen assumed her seat upon the throne, and Anna assumed her station at the seat’s right hand. All along the length of the hall, courtiers were gathered in cloaks, robes, and tunics, and Anna recognized among their number the short man from yesterday, and a few of the other uniquely-dressed dignitaries, including the prince of Aztlan. Lining the walls of the hall were armored men-at-arms, ready for danger, and at the front doors, two Royal Guardsmen stood in their white-enameled steel plate armor.

All had knelt for the entering of Queen Elsa, and all rose when she sat. The other councilmen assumed positions in sturdy oaken chairs at the base of the dais, arranged arcwise around the end of the carpet such that all petitioners could see the whole council, and the queen, whenever they came petitioning.

The first petitioner was a shabby knight who complained a knight from a neighboring barony kept stealing the livestock from one of his villages. After hearing his complaint, Anna was personally much inclined to grant all the man requested – but no sooner did the knight finish speaking than did Lord Myles launch into a vicious deconstruction of the story. How often did the thefts occur? Was it only livestock, or other things? Can all the villagers describe the bandits? What time of day did the thefts usually occur? Could nothing else be done to stop the thefts? Why did you not take this matter to your liege lord? Lord Myles caught the man in a lie when he claimed that pigs were all that was being stolen, and then went on to refer to the loss of chickens as well. Lady Ysmir implied the man might be done up in irons for wasting the court’s time, but Queen Elsa was merciful, and dismissed the man from her court with the order not to return again.

Many of the petitioners were not so interesting as that, with the stories and complaints and requests all of a rather mundane nature. Anna found her mind wandering, and daydreamed while the petitioners came and went.

A commotion snapped her back into focus. A fieldhand was beseeching the queen’s council for assistance in a small matter, and was raising his voice in frustration. He had a scraggly beard and sunken eyes, and was dressed in homespun rags, wrapped several times around his spindly frame. He was one of Ser Bjorn’s peasants, in the Up-And-Downs, and journied to Crystalwater to complain of his lord’s cruelty. The lord regularly sallied forth to beat and bother the townsfolk, as well as other acts, more unspeakable.

“Why did you not take this matter to his liege lord, Lord Reginald?” asked Lord Hugoss, sitting in a double-width oaken chair at the base of the dais.

“M’lord is cousin to Ser Bjorn, and would take sides agin’ me.”

“You underestimate Lord Reginald’s character,” said Lord Myles flatly. “The Lord of Dawnspring is a very even-tempered man.”

“I don’t doubt m’lord is even-tempered,” said the peasant. “But – but m’lord favors Ser Bjorn…”

“That is not our concern,” snapped Lord Myles. “The crown has no business resolving the differences between a peasant and a petty lord like Ser Bjorn.”

Crestfallen, the peasant looked up at Queen Elsa, eyes beseeching. “Please, Your Majesty, they say your father was always kind and just…”

Queen Elsa’s mouth formed a tight, thin frown. She looked between the council members, and many of them were giving her quick, surreptitious shakes of the head.Glumly, she shook her own head. “I am sorry, my good man, but there is nothing to be done. If you want, I will write Lord Reginald personally, and-”

But the peasant was no longer listening. Eyes streaming with angry tears, he rushed the dais with surprising speed for such a frail man. A startled cry went through the court as the man produced a rusty old shiv from the folds in his clothing. Anna saw the queen reflected in the man’s furious eyes – visibly frightened, hands clutching the sides of the throne, unmoving. A jolt of electricity went through her, and her fingers twitched. She loosened Autumn in its scabbard.

Before the man could clear two steps up the dais,Anna bolted forward and bashed the man in the face with the pommel of her sword. He went reeling, his nose broken and bleeding profusely, as two guardsmen rushed forward to seize him under the arms. Another gasp flitted among the courtiers, shocked silence followed.

“Be grateful that the Lady Protector stopped you before you could lay a hand on Her Grace,” said Ser Tore sharply to the dazed, bleeding man. “If you had touched her, it could have meant your life. For now, a few weeks in the dungeon ought to put your head on straight.” The two guardsmen dragged the sobbing and bleeding man away from them. Queen Elsa shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Think nothing of it, Your Grace,” said Lord Myles, turning to face the queen. “Even your father was met with some hopeless, angry peasants in his time. There is nothing to be done for it.”

“Mayhaps not,” said Queen Elsa slowly. “But the man was clearly distraught.” She paused. “I want the affairs of Ser Bjorn looked into. Write Lord Reginald and see that he keep a watchful eye on his vassals.”

“Aye, your grace,” said Lord Myles.

Anna resumed her station, but not before casting a cautious glance back to the queen. She sat stock still and rigid, her brow etched with concern. Her ice blue eyes met Anna’s with an careful shimmer, the familiar tint of unease visible once more.

The Lady Protector did not have a complete conversation with her queen again until a month later. She saw the queen daily, being as she was the queen’s personal escort and guard, but they conversed very little. The growing issue with the Duchy of Weselton amidst accusations of assassination attempts left little time for aught but council meetings, and Queen Elsa was often exhausted as a result. Though she nightly invited Anna to her solar for some wine in the evenings, she was too tired to do anything but listen, and only bid Anna tell her about her life growing up among the trolls. And as Anna would talk, the queen would close her eyes and doze off, half-empty cup of wine cradled in an immaculate white hand. When that happened, Anna would stand up, kneel slightly, and say “Good night, Your Grace;” then return to her chambers.

A few days after Lady Ysmir proposed it, a party was saddled and dispatched to Vardale to see to the truth of Ser Magnus’s death. Ser Anna and Master Penrose led the party, a simple gaggle of men-at-arms and attendants. Anna guided them to the makeshift grave, and Ser Magnus was dug up, and the bones inspected by Master Penrose with his wild purple hair. “’Ayup,” he said with a grimace. “Definitely Ser Magnus, and _definitely_ dead by a beast-man’s hands. Or jaw, as the case may be.”

They then went to the inn, or what remained of it, anyway – it had been burnt down, except for the stone tower, and they found the remains of eleven individuals in the wreckage, all charred bones picked clean by ravens, the bodies looted by looters. Still, luck was with them, for on three of the bodies they found coins marked with the badge of Weselton – a mark from the duke himself, guaranteeing the bearer an audience. “Usually given to envoys and diplomats,” said Master Penrose quietly. “But also, occasionally, the sort of thing you might give assassins in your employ.”

Though he was called a Court Wizard, Master Penrose seemed to know little of magic beyond a few parlor tricks and alchemy. Anna, ever curious of magic and its turpitudes, asked about the title. “Though we are called wizards, true magicians are few in our ranks,” the beardless Court Wizard told Anna on the road. He couldn’t have been older than twenty years. “Nowadays, the title is bestowed on those who are learned in the arts and sciences.”

“Can you perform glamors?” Anna asked. “Mix potions?”

Master Penrose nodded. “With some difficulty. But such magic is little more than illusionry. Evocations and incantations and the like, well – they say magic is in the blood, and since the First King banned all study of such, all of that is now in the realm of legend and fantasy.” He shrugged, and smiled wanly at Anna. “It’s a shame. I’ve always thought it would be fun to fling lightning bolts from my fingertips. But I make do with studying medicine and the motion of the stars. It is magic of a different sort.”

 _Magic of a different sort._ That stuck with Anna. She wondered what Maple would make of it – she imagined the witch would find it very amusing. Anna still remembered the look on Maple’s face when she turned up with the gold, the tournament winnings. “A promise is a promise,” said Anna as she heaved chest after half-filled chest of snowflake-studded coins into the small storefront.

Maple was thunderstruck. “It’s more than I thought,” she said, a little bewildered. “You can take some, if you want…”

Anna shook her head. “I don’t need it. I have the ransoms.”

“The ransoms?” Maple blinked, still flustered. Comprehension dawned: “Oh, oh, right. From your defeated opponents, for their arms and equipment…”

“Five ransoms on such arms and armor as my opponents wielded has left me still with more gold and silver than I know what to do with.” Anna sighed, and spread her hands. “Anyway, that’s that. Thanks for all your help, Maple. If there’s anything I can do for you, don’t hesitate to come and ask.”

Maple blinked again. “You’re going? Wait, wait; _you_ can do for _me?_ You just gave me all this gold…”

“As we agreed,” said Anna. “I would never have won it without your help, anyway. It’s yours by rights.”

Maple was silent for a few moments, then pursed her lips in a frown. “As it happens, there _is_ something you can do for me. I need someone to have tea with. Kinda now.”

Anna was reasonably sure Maple was a true magician, though she hadn’t seen the witch to do more than potions and her own illusions. Those were impressive enough, but she also wondered if Maple was the sort to conjure fireballs. The image sent a chill down Anna’s spine. If she was, she’d have to make sure not to damage the witch girl’s calm. Anna didn’t know how to fight conjurers of fireballs. She imagined she might yield straightaway.

Despite not being a “real” wizard, Anna found that she didn’t mind Master Penrose, who insisted Anna call him by his first name – Sydney. He was a scatterbrained fellow, and a bit aloof, and constantly dyed his hair different colors – but he was also very learned, and evidently impressed that Anna could read. He asked her if she had read this or that book, and of course, Anna hadn’t – but rather than being scornful, the Court Wizard was delighted. “Oh, well, it is a _must-read_ , let me tell you. I have a spare copy I can lend you.” He reminded Anna a little of Anders, for that if nothing else. By the time their expedition was done, she was certain she had acquired a new friend.

Master Penrose was also a hopeless gossip. “So,” he had said, casually, “is there anyone special in your life?”

“I’m sorry?” said Anna, raising an eyebrow and turning in the seat of her horse to face him.

“You know, like a significant other,” he said, leaning over in his seat. “A boyfriend, girlfriend, that sort of thing?”

“Oh,” said Anna, momentarily fuddled. “No. Why do you ask? Are you propositioning me?”

Master Penrose laughed loudly. “Oh, no, no, no, gods, no. I was only curious. Oh, please excuse me – it’s naught to do with you. My heart’s pledged to another, that’s all.”

“I didn’t know you were married,” said Anna.

“Ah, well, I’m not, no – not as such,” he said somewhat bashfully.

“Why not?”

For a moment, he looked uneasy, but he laughed it off with a half-hearted chuckle. “Timing, you know.”

Back in Crystalwater, Ser Anna and Master Penrose broke the news of their discoveries to the council. When it was shown that the assassins were beyond a doubt responsible for the bribery of Wat the Bastard and the killing of Ser Magnus, and bore official state coins from Weselton, the uproar was immediate. At the council’s behest, the queen had the Duke of Weselton banished from Arendelle, and an embargo was declared: henceforth, no more business would be done with Weselton.

The duke’s response was a furious series of angry letters, insulting the queen and her parents and the kingdom and demanding that the embargo be lifted. But the council would not yield, and tensions began to rise.

One afternoon Anna spent almost entirely in her solar, as the armorer Lord Hugoss sent for had arrived to measure Anna for a new set of full plate. Lord Hugoss was present for the fitting, and spoke at great length about the armorer’s credentials and abilities. “His mother was Edna the Excellent, best armorer and seamstress in all the Svithron states,” said Lord Hugoss pompously, as the short little man with the hook nose and beady eyes darted around Anna’s perimeter with strings and lengths of rope and flax. When he asked what color Anna wanted, she responded “Green” immediately.

The little man eventually left, promising to have the armor completed within three week’s time. Suddenly Lord Hugoss spoke: “Oh, yes! And the heraldry! For your shield.”

“Ah,” said Anna, rubbing her neck nervously. “I still haven’t made a choice yet.”

Lord Hugoss rubbed his beard. “Well, I suppose you could have a _blank_ shield, but there’s not much fun in that, is there?” And so he left Anna to think about what symbol she thought represented her best.

It wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Everything she thought of sounded only half as good as the next thing she thought of, which itself wasn’t as good as the thing she thought of two things before that. Dozens of animals and sigils popped up in her mind: Dragons, owls, bears, reindeer, trees, swords. Somehow, none of them seemed appropriate.

One morning, a few weeks later, Anna was sitting in her solar, breaking her fast on some hard bread and eggs that Martin had brought for her. A knock at the door surprised her, and Martin let himself in, trailed by Kai, the Master of Letters.

“A letter for you, my Lady Protector. Shall I read it to you?” he asked.

“No, thank you, Kai. I am quite good at reading by myself.”

He looked surprised to hear that. “Really? Well, very good, my lady.” He bowed and left, leaving behind a letter sealed with silver wax stamped by a sunburst.

Anna opened the letter carefully and read. It was from Lord Reginald Morning; Lord Reginald Morning was lord paramount of the Up-And-Downs, and ruled from his castle Dawnspring, nestled among the verdant hills between Crystalwater and Vardale. He was also the brother of the late Ser Richard Morning, also called the Giant, whom Anna put into the grave. The letter was addressed to Anna personally: Lord Reginald offered to pay the ransom for his brother’s sword and armor, and congratulated her on winning the tournament. The tone was bland, but humble, and in every sense respectful. The letter was signed with a thick scrawl.

She was still pondering the letter when Martin knocked and entered again. “Ser,” he said, “the queen wants your audience.”

Anna found Queen Elsa in her solar, studying a parchment and looking ill-at-ease. When the queen noticed her, she brusquely bid Anna to sit down. A fire was burning in the hearth.

Anna bowed and sat. “How may I serve you, Your Grace?”

Queen Elsa gestured to the letter. “I have here a letter from Ser Harris Morning. If you didn’t know, he’s the younger brother of Ser Richard Morning, the man you – you killed in the tourney.” Her voice caught and she averted her eyes as she mentioned the beheading of the Giant.

Anna nodded slowly. “I didn’t know Ser Richard had a little brother. I received a letter from his older brother today.”

Queen Elsa’s head shot up at that. “Really?” she asked sharply. “What did it say?”

Anna shifted in her seat. “Lord Reginald offered his congratulations, and asked to pay the ransom for Ser Richard’s suit and sword.”

Queen Elsa relaxed at that, and sat back in her chair. “That is good to hear. Ser Harris is not so pleased. He writes,” Queen Elsa sat up, and adopted a low-pitched voice full of somber melodrama. “’I am deeply disturbed by the travesty that has unfolded in Crystalwater this past August. I have received word that my brother was slain by an uncouth, uncivil, uncultured, and uncultivated barbarian from the northern woodlands, and that this same barbarian has been granted a position on the queen’s small council, despite her low birth, young age, sex, and murderous tendencies. I would advise the queen to heed my warning and banish the blackguard before any further harm is done. Yours faithfully, Ser Harris Morning.’ It is good to hear that his brother does not share his views.” With that, the queen ripped the letter into halves, then quarters, then eighths, and threw the pieces into the fire.

For a long moment, Anna was speechless. Queen Elsa sat there with a pensive, unsatisfied look on her face, legs crossed as she stared at the curling black pieces of parchment in the fire.

Then Anna laughed. A snicker, at first, but quickly it grew into a hearty chuckle, and then a full-on guffaw, complete with snorts. She finally managed to rein it in, and wiped the tears of joy from her eyes to see Queen Elsa staring at her, completely scandalized.

“Oh,” choked Anna. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, I only – I – I was very amused by your – your caricature of the letter. I meant no offense, truly. Ser Richard was an honorable opponent, I take no joy in his slaying.”

Queen Elsa smiled slightly. “Not at all, my lady. I admit that was very improper of me to make light of Ser Harris’s grief. But if you knew the man as I did, you’d find that he seizes every opportunity he can to take offense at nothing. Part of me even doubts he is truly sorry for his brother’s sake.” She grimaced. “No, I shouldn’t say that. Ser Harris may be a complainer, but he is nothing if not dutiful. He loves his brothers dearly.” Queen Elsa picked up another letter from the table adjacent, already opened and tabbed at the ends with gray wax. “I also received this letter from the Lord of Burrowstown.”

Anna frowned, but said nothing. The queen fingered a corner of the letter for awhile, and then spoke up again. “The letter is much like Ser Harris’s, except it names you an exile who maimed the Lord Mayor’s son. Is that true?”

A pause. “Yes, Your Grace,” said Anna hesitantly. “It is true. I was exiled from Burrowstown for wounding the Lord Mayor’s son.”

Queen Elsa huffed. “The letter makes no mention of context, so I can only assume the punishment fits the crime. As it is, however, you are banished from Burrowstown and not Crystalwater, so I see no reason you can’t sit the council here. Besides, I need _someone_ to laugh at my ill-advised japes.”

Anna bowed her head. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“You should curse me, my dear ser knight,” the queen said dryly. “I plan to inflict you with a good deal more of my poor sense of humor.”

Anna laughed lightly, and smiled. “I accept your terms, Your Grace. As you say, the punishment fits the crime.”

At that, Queen Elsa burst into a spate of laughter of her own, though unlike Anna’s it was round and pretty, almost musical. It tickled Anna’s heart to hear it, and furthermore, to know that it was something she said that originated it. A deep sense of satisfaction fell over her, and she smirked slightly.

“Well, ser, clearly I am a bad influence on you. I plan not to attend council until noon, so you may go for now.”

Ser Anna stood up and bowed. “As it please Your Grace.” She turned to leave when a sudden thought came to her mind. “My queen,” she said, “I was wondering what, perhaps, you knew of heraldry?”

“Hm?” said Queen Elsa, looking up from another parchment. “A great deal, if I may indulge my ego for a moment. Why do you ask?”

“Well, Your Grace, as I am a risen lord – or, erm, lady – I must needs select a sigil of my own.”

“What?” The queen looked confused, and then she wrinkled her nose, her faint frickles wiggling slightly on her upper cheeks. “Oh, yes, yes, that is true. Have you given any consideration as to what you want your… your heraldry to be?”

“Much and more, but I’m afraid one choice asyet eludes me. I was hoping you might know of a sigil that might be appropriate for one such as me.”

“Ah,” said Queen Elsa. She looked back at Anna. “One such as you?” she repeated, then cupped her chin in her hand and seemed lost in thought. “You are the Knight of Crystalwater,” she said at last. “There is a flower that is very dear to this city. It only flowers for a short time in the spring, when the snow melts. It is called the golden crocus.”

Anna frowned. “I’ve never heard of it before.”

“You wouldn’t. It is a rare sight. For only a few weeks each year, the fields around the city come alive with their flowering. It is truly an amazing sight, and one that all who live in Crystalwater come to cherish.”

“I would like to see that,” said Anna after a pause.

The queen smiled at her. “You will, come spring. I think this flower would serve you well as a sigil.”

Anna smiled back, and nodded firmly. “Very well, then. It is done. The golden crocus will be my sigil.”

When Anna’s shield and armor arrived, she was speechless. Lord Hugoss insisted on attending the unveiling, and he sat in her solar, dabbing at his forehead with his handkerchief, while Anna walked around the armor stand without words. The little armorer was presenting, and attended by a large, mute man in a brown leather jerkin.

“Oh, Lord Hugoss, this is a regal gift.” She ran her fingers along the green enamel, tracing the golden vines gingerly. “It is very pretty, but…”

The armorer snorted loudly. “You doubt that is strong as well? My steel is as strong as any. James!”

The mute man unslung an axe from his back, and in a swift motion brought it crashing down on the armor’s shoulder with a deafening CLANG. Anna winced, but when she looked, she could find no scratch or dent or any indication that the armor had just suffered a direct hit.

“Very strong steel,” said the armorer, sticking out his chin. “The strongest.” When he and his attendant left, Anna turned to Lord Hugoss.

“My lord, this is truly a magnificent gift. I must ask if you really insist.”

The fat lord laughed jovially. “Good ser knight, the Hugosses have served the Royal Family for generations. We make it a practice to give small donations to keep the Lord Protector well-outfitted, all the better to Lord-Protect with. On that note, would you mind it if I took a look at your sword? I know I don’t look it, but I used to be a warrior in my youth.”

Anna went and fetched Autumn, and brought it out to show Lord Hugoss. When he saw the blade, his expression turned serious. “Aye, Berkish steel.” He hefted it. “Light and strong. Now _this_ is a princely gift if ever there was one. To whom do you owe it?”

“My teacher,” said Anna. “She was from Berk.”

“Aye? Must have been someone important. I doubt most Berkish see steel like this in a lifetime. Most of it’s done and gone.” He squinted at the folded steel patterns. “This is an old style. I reckon this blade was forged about three-hundred years ago, around the time of the Ice Queen.” He handed the sword back. “Guard this sword well. It is extraordinarily valuable. By the by, what of the Giant’s Knife?”

“I returned the Giant’s Knife to the Giant’s brother, Lord Reginald. He offered to pay the ransom and I couldn’t refuse him, not in good conscience.”

Lord Hugoss nodded. “Aye, it would be an ill thing to do so. It was wise of you to accept his ransom.”

From that point on, Anna wore her green steel armor to court every day, and it was none too timely an impression to make as words started to bandy about of a potential war with Weselton. The queen was ragged and overworked, and often went to bed without her evening glass of wine with Anna. She wished she could help, but when she posed the offer to Ser Tore, he only grunted.

“Make sure your sword’s sharp and your men are ready.” Thus did Anna take to seeing to her men, though she had very little idea of what a Captain of the Guard was supposed to _do._ When their tables and watches were set up, the guard seemed to run themselves, mostly. After trying and failing to get a grasp of the full scope of the captain’s duties, she resolved to pick a lieutenant to delegate to.

The choice came down to one of two: Ser Tazmus, a stocky, clean-shaven man with a red face and a goodly demeanor; and Flynt the Bastard, a dark youth of sour looks, so affectionately named as he was Ser Tore’s legitimized bastard son, and now a Royal Guardsman. Ultimately, Anna settled on Ser Tazmus, as she believed his vows of knighthood gave him the edge in honor, and honor was just the thing a man needed in the Royal Guard. To Flynt, she gave the honor of 2nd Lieutenant.

In late October, as Anna was escorting the queen to her chambers after another late council meeting (this one primarily concerned with deep-sea fishing rights, and how the embargo on Weselton affected the mutual fishing zones), Anna bid the queen good night and made to depart her solar just as the queen said “Wait, Anna. Have a drink with me.”

“As Your Grace commands,” said Anna, and she entered the queen’s solar. A fire was already crackling merrily in the hearth. Despite the October chill, the queen wore a light blue cotton dress, and even seemed flushed.

She poured two cups of wine and handed one to Anna. “Sit, please. Goodness, I don’t know how you can stand in that armor all day. It must be hellish.”

Anna sat. “It’s not so bad. I’ve weathered harder training. My teacher often taught me endurance was vital for a training knight.”

“It is just as vital for sitting queens, I assure you,” said the queen with a grimace, and she shifted in her seat. “Though it is a different kind of endurance, I think. Reminds me of father, the way he would complain of sitting all day.” She deepened her voice. “‘Cushions. I need cushions.’ And yet, he kept at it, day after day.”

Anna had to smile. “He sounds like quite a man. People speak highly of him.”

Queen Elsa fixed Anna with a sad stare, and shortly after her eyes began to wander. She downed her first cup quickly. “Sometimes I wish I could talk to him,” she said suddenly, staring at the rushes. “There are a lot of questions I… I never bothered to ask, when I could.” She sat back and rubbed her temples sullenly, eyes shut tight. “Anna, would you kindly tell me a story about when you were younger? Something with the trolls. Anything to get my mind off of being queen.”

Anna sipped her drink, and started on a story about how, one time, she went fishing down by the river with the trolls. She talked about learning how to cast a line and bait a hook (and how she always felt sorry for the small grubs that she had to spear through), and then she talked about how the first several fish she hooked jumped off the hook, or else escaped when she tried to move them to the net. “I remember insisting that I could just grab them off the hook. But fish are _slippery_ , you know.”

So many years listening to Oaken and Anders tell stories had taken an evident toll on Anna, and she didn’t mind talking about her childhood when the queen asked her to. It made her feel good to know that the queen seemed to relax to hear of it, like she was really helping deal with the Weselton issue in whatever way she could. She grew so used to the queen falling asleep during the telling that it surprised her a little bit when the queen opened her eyes suddenly.

“Fishing?” she asked. Anna nodded. “We spent the entire evening talking about deep-sea fishing rights in court,” said the queen dryly. “Now, I’m afraid that’s all I can think about.”

Anna reddened. “Oh, gosh, I – I’m sorry,” she stammered apologetically. “I wasn’t thinking, Your Grace. I guess I have fish on the mind, too. I didn’t mean to…”

To her relief, the queen laughed. “Please, relax. I was only teasing. Besides, your kind of fishing sounds more interesting than hundred-year-old treaties.”

Anna blinked. “Haven’t you ever been fishing before, Your Grace?”

“Why would I do that?”

“To eat. Oh… I don’t suppose you’d need to worry about that. Not that you don’t need to eat, but, erm, well, the kitchens and all…” Her voice trailed off, and Anna wrung her hands nervously. “I’m afraid I’m making a real mess of my words tonight, Your Grace.”

Queen Elsa chuckled. “You know, that reminds me of something Lord Reginald often said. As far as lords go, he’s a rather odd one. As like as not to spend time in the hills and forests as in his castle, and he loves to hunt.” She looked down at her hands and flexed them slightly. “One thing he would always tell father was that he needed to spend more time ‘off fishing,’ which he took to mean vacationing. But father never heeded the advice.” She looked up again, her blue eyes meeting Anna’s. She smiled slightly. “I say this weekend we go fishing.”

“Are… Are you sure, Your Grace?”

“Oh yes, I’m quite sure. I’ve had quite enough of long meetings for the nonce. A day of fishing sounds like it’d hit the spot.”

“November is a colder month for fishing than most.”

“That’s fine,” said the queen, and she stood up to walk over to the window. She threw back the wooden shutters and a chill wind filled the room. She leaned forward, hands resting on the sill, gripping it tight as the draft guttered the hearth and flapped the hem of her dress. She smiled wide, and turned back to Anna, her hands splayed out, immaculate and bare. “The cold never bothered me anyway.”

The next Saturday, Queen Elsa eagerly let it be known that she was “gone fishing” that day with her Lady Protector, and that all official business was postponed until the morrow.

“And what if any important issues should arise?” asked Lady Ysmir impatiently.

“Ser Tore will handle them.” And she nodded to Ser Tore, who bowed his head. “As Your Grace commands.”

Anna and the queen found their horses saddled and ready to go. The morning was brisk and gray and cloudy, and a strong wind was coming off the fjord. Martin had packed Anna’s saddlebags with all that they’d need for fishing: rods, nets, hooks, bobs, weights, baits, string, a quilted blanket, bread, and a skin of wine.

Through the walls of the Arenborg they passed on horseback, and into the stretch of open country that lay athwart the hills, rivers, and fjords of the Vestlandet. A winding path took them along the rocky beach of the fjord and into the woods. As they were venturing alone, Anna had dressed in armor and cloak. Alongside the queen, in her azure blue riding habit, she imagined they looked quite the pair: The knight and the maiden fair. The notion gave her a strange sense of pride. She imagined hooligans emerging from the woods.

“Stop!” they would snarl from unkempt beards. “We’re the bandits of these hills, and we’ll take all your money and kidnap the queen!”

“I think not!” Ser Anna would declare, and draw Autumn, screaming with want of blood.

“Take her down, boys!” And the bandits would descend from all corners. Anna would lay at them from atop her faithful mare, slashing left and right ‘til all around them lie the enemies of the queen.

“My hero!” Queen Elsa would say, and kiss Ser Anna on the cheek.

Anna blushed involunarily at the thought. Where did that come from?

She gave a slight start when Queen Elsa spoke. “You must be quite uncomfortable in all that armor.”

“Uh-Um,” articulated Anna, and then she cleared her throat. “It’s not so bad, Your Grace. I must be ready in case of danger.”

The queen gave a conciliatory nod of the head at that. “Still. This day is meant to be relaxing.”

“For you, Your Grace. Not me.”

“So you won’t be enjoying our fishing trip?”

“Not at all, Your Grace!” said Anna quickly. “I mean, erm, yes – that is, I will enjoy it. So, no. To your question, that is. Your Grace.” _Gods, when did I turn into Martin?_

The queen laughed lightly. “Please, Ser Anna. Call me Elsa. And I am glad to hear you are as excited as I am. Armor notwithstanding.”

“It is a light suit, Your Gr- erm, Elsa.” The name sounded odd on her tongue, leaden. She heard herself say it as though she was underwater. Queen Elsa shifted in her saddle.

They passed the great stone cairns of the Royal Cemetery without comment, and after winding through some hills and up a stream, came to a lagoon. “This is where we were told the fishing is best,” said the queen. “I remember coming here as a girl, to ride in boats with father.”

Anna looked across the lagoon, green and thick with heavy colors in the dull morning light. “It’s large. What lay at the other end of it?”

“The Toadsmarsh. Not very many people go there, however.” Elsa hopped off her horse and Anna followed suit, hobbling both horses to a nearby sturdy oak. Anna lay out the quilted blanket, which Elsa promptly fell upon, spread-eagle, eyes closed. Anna watched the queen’s prone figure laying on the quilt, lips slightly parted to admit slow, full breaths, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. She looked tired there, the façade of her prim demeanor cast aside and lain bare before the torment of stress and anguish. Anna had no idea what it was like to run a kingdom or lose her parents. All she did was hold a sword and look menacing. But right now, the queen needed her, if only just to unwind.

Anna took off her gauntlets and gloves and got to work stringing the fishing rods, rotating the long sticks around the ends of the string with the hook, bobber, and weights all applied. “Your Grace,” said Anna, as she held a ready fishing rod. “Erm, Elsa.” Still no reply. Anna looked, and had to fight a small grin – the queen was fast asleep already.

She baited the hook with a wriggling grub and cast the line into the lagoon. She knew not what kind of fish would bite on a morning or day like this, but better to try and fail than to assume the worst.

It was some time later when Elsa stirred with a yawn. She sat up and looked at Anna, who was sitting hunchbacked with the line cast, eyes fixed on the bob. “Goodness,” said Elsa. “How long did I sleep?”

“About an hour, perhaps more,” said Anna.

“You let me sleep? You must have been terribly bored.”

“A lot of fishing is waiting,” admitted Anna. “If you want, I can bait you a hook as well.”

“Have you caught anything?”

“Not yet. No fish are biting today, it seems.”

Elsa stood and walked over to the edge of the lagoon, eyes scanning the surface of the water. “How do you even know there are any fish in there?”

“You can see them with a trained eye. Many are colored so they’re difficult to spot in the water. Look – there’s one right there. He must not be hungry.”

Elsa squinted her eyes. “I don’t see anything.” She sat back down on the blanket. She smiled. “You think it might be easier to just go grab the fish out of the water, like a heron?”

Anna didn’t know what a heron was, but she said “I can do that.”

Elsa raised both eyebrows. “Really?” She lowered them again. “Oh, very funny. People can’t do that, not without some kind of trick.”

“No, I’m being serious. There’s no trick to it. You just have to be fast.”

Elsa narrowed her eyes. “Well, _prove_ it then.”

Anna blinked, reeled in the line on the rod and then slipped off her greaves and wool socks and waded into the water until it was up to her knees. She put her hands on her hips and stood stock still.

“Hey, isn’t that cold?” called Elsa.

“I bet it’s cold. You don’t _have_ to prove it, you know. I was only making a jape.”

“We can fish the normal way. How do you bait a hook, exactly?”

“How long is this going to take, anyway?”

Anna shot her hand into the water like an arrow. It emerged with a pale wriggling thing, head and neck firmly caught in Anna’s thumb and forefinger. Anna waded back to shore. “See? No trick. Just have to be fast and patient.”

Elsa gaped. “I… I stand corrected.”

Anna grinned and gestured to a net lying on the ground. “If you brought me that net, we could mark this our first catch of the day.”

Elsa nodded and went to the net. “’Our?’” She repeated. “I did nothing. That was all you.”

“Not if you help put it in the net,” Anna said, still grinning.

Elsa picked up the net and stopped, looking Anna up and down. She felt a little embarrassed. _I’m standing barefoot with a fish in my hands before the most beautiful queen of the most powerful kingdom in Europa,_ she thought soberly, and her smile faltered.

But when Elsa spoke, her voice was soft, her eyes shimmering. “You are quite the woman, my lady Anna.”

At a loss for words, Anna swallowed. “My Grace is kind to say so,” she said distantly.

“ _Elsa_ ,” insisted the queen. She held out the net, and opened her mouth to say something, pausing for a moment. “You know… there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you… I – oh!”

Anna had loosed her grip on the fish, and in an instant it slipped out of her hand, flopping into the air to slap her in the face with its tail. She took a step backwards and slipped on something wet and slimy. With a crash, she slammed against the lagoon shore, head spinning.

“Oh my gods! Are you all right?” she heard Elsa’s voice between the ringing.

“I’m fine,” winced Anna. “Maybe bruised. I told you fish were slippery.” Dizzy, she pushed herself into a sitting position, and was met with the queen’s outstretched hand. She noticed the fingernails were done up in blue paint, and perfectly kept.

“Here, let me help you up.”

“Thanks,” said Anna, and took the queen’s hand in her own. It felt like cold, tingling and ephemeral, and then nothing. With a heave, she was on her feet again, hand still clasped with Elsa’s, and face to face with the queen – or as near as that could be allowed, with Elsa about five inches taller than she was.

The queen smiled, showing her teeth. “You can let go of my hand now,” she chuckled.

“Oh, right,” said Anna with a nervous laugh, and she pulled her hand away slowly. Her fingers were stiff and aching. She looked down and saw her right hand was blue.

Suddenly her breath vanished as a piercing pain shot through her chest. She choked and tried to suck in a breath, gagging, her lungs aflame. The queen gasped and a cold whirlwind whipped across the lagoon. The horses began to buck and neigh as they struggled against their restraints. The quilted blanket blew away, and Anna’s ears filled with the howling of the gust. She fell to her knees, the wind slicing through her like a knife, shrieking at her with every stab. And her breath would not come. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came forth. The last thing Anna saw was the queen, her face distant and filled with terror, and the endless white all around.

 

* * *

 

The memories were water, her mind a sieve. She rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands. For a solid month, she had not spoken to the queen. She stood at her side in court, but that was it. The queen didn’t even look at her, she only sat and played with her teal gloves and pretended that Anna didn’t exist. Most hurtfully, she demanded different guards for all other times of the day.

“Who are your most trusted guards?” Lady Ysmir had asked Ser Anna while she lay abed in the infirmary. The Court Wizard was in the corner worrying over bottles of labeled and unlabeled remedies and ingredients and reagents.

“My two lieutenants,” replied Anna. “Ser Tazmus and Flynt. Why?”

“Flynt the Bastard?” Lady Ysmir wrinkled her nose. “The queen has requested a new personal guard.”

“What?” shouted Anna, shooting up.

“Hey, lie down! You need to rest!” yelled Master Penrose from the corner. Anna reluctantly lay back down, shoulders tense.

Lady Ysmir sniffed. “For some reason the queen is unsatisfied with your service as her personal protector. _I_ can’t say this realization came a second too soon for her. But she did bid me ask who your most trusted guardsmen were. I mean to turn the watch over to their command, for the nonce.”

Anna shot up again. “You can’t do that!”

“HEY!” yelled Master Penrose. Anna didn’t lay down this time.

“Oh, yes I can,” snapped Lady Ysmir. “It’s a royal decree. And even Lord Myles agrees. As it happens, he also believes Ser Tazmus is a good choice for interim captain. Can you blame us? You’re bedridden for gods know how long, and the Weselton threat still looms.”

“I’ll be up again soon enough,” said Anna darkly. “And when I am, I expect the watch to be turned back to my command.”

“We’ll see,” said Lady Ysmir curtly. “I’m not entirely convinced this wound is by coincidence, or wasn’t meant for the queen. Do you know _any_ of the details of what attacked you?”

“I told you,” said Anna through clenched teeth, “I don’t remember what happened.”

Before Lady Ysmir could reply, Master Penrose appeared over her shoulder, arms full with flasks and bottles, hair wild and green. For a second, Anna thought of Maple. “My lady, if you would be so kind as to _go away_. You’re making my patient uncomfortable and interfering with my work.”

With a sneer, Lady Ysmir left them, and Master Penrose set his bottles down on the bedside table. “Sorry about that,” he said to Anna. “I wouldn’t have let her in, but she was about Her Majesty’s business. Drink this.” He held a bottle of clear, odorless liquid to Anna’s mouth. She drank. It burned her tongue and throat.

“Do you know what’s wrong with me?” she asked.

He looked at her and sighed heavily. “I already told you, I’ve never seen anything like this before. I thought it was just hypothermia – when we found you at the lagoon side, you were cold. But even after we warmed you up, you kept cooling down again. I had to put you by the fire.” He rubbed his chin. “It’s better, now, though. You aren’t cooling back down as quickly. Very unusual, though, all said.”

It stung to think about it. Everything was going so well, and then… why? It just wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all. She racked her brain. _What happened?_ Did a monster attack? Some kind of cold-demon, and Anna was wounded and the queen mortally threatened. She hadn’t heard the queen suffered an injury, but perhaps seeing her Lord Protector so easily struck down panicked her, and that’s why she sent for different guards. That was no more than Anna deserved, if true. She had _failed._

She shut her eyes against the bitterness of the memory. She didn’t know what else she could do, where else she could go. All the world was regret. Rumors had spread of the “true” reason the queen dismissed her, and every one of them hurt more than the last. The biting words and whispers of the servants and courtiers, all false rumors with hints of truth, and one thing in common: Her _failure_.

The stablemaster’s apprentice. _I shouldn’t have… but he_ asked _for it._

“The Lady Protector!” he laughed. _Ignore him. He only likes getting a rise out of people. He’s cruel to all the stableboys, and you are a Lady of the queen’s court._

“Hey, where are you going? Running away?” She threw the saddle on her horse. One of her only friends now.

“Probably off to bugger a different queen,” he announced to the watching stableboys. Anna clenched her fist.

“Didn’t you hear? That’s why the queen dismissed her. Because she made an advance on her.”

Anna whirled on him, eyes aflame. “What was that?” She walked up to him. He was a foot taller than she was. “Say that again.”

He snorted. “I said-” She didn’t let him finish. By the end, her fists were throbbing. She didn’t know what hurt more: her knuckles, or the shocked expressions on the onlookers’ faces.

Lord Myles demanded to know the reason for the outburst. “The stablemaster tells me he can no longer understand his apprentice. Something about no teeth in the lad’s mouth,” he said in that calm, easy way of his. “I mean, I like wanton violence as much as the next lord, but this is the Arenborg, not the Beast’s Keep. We have _standards._ ”

“She should be tried for treason,” declared Lady Ysmir.

“Bullshit,” barked Ser Tore. “If that filthy scoundrel spoke that way to any of you lordly lords, you’d have removed his tongue and then gelded him. Be grateful that your Lady goddamn Protector only bashed his ugly mutt face in.” The queen merely looked on, impassive.

That was yesterday. This morning, Anna woke early to find Ser Tore before he did his rounds. He was in his solar, alone, mulling some wine above a coal flame. “I have no duties left. I captain no guard, I protect no lords. Why doesn’t the queen just strip my title?” she asked him. There was no more steel in her voice, only sadness.

He sighed. “Lord Protectors serve for life,” he said gruffly. “You have your vows. Remember them. Remember your vows. If you break them, it’s a traitor’s death for you.”

“But how can I keep my vows? I swore to protect the queen, and she’s dismissed me. What am I to do?”

“You are to do as the queen commands. You can do naught else. You don’t like the way things are, do a better job.” He ground his teeth. “The old Lord Erik, the Lord Protector before you… he was a great man, and a great Lord Protector. But that was no thanks to the strength of his arm. He was great because he never forgot his vows.” He sighed heavily and cleared his throat. “The wizard tells me you are possessed of a strange illness. Here.” He poured her some mulled wine to kill the chill, and she left his company somewhat warmed but no less vexed with her employment.

She did her training, spoke her vows. She had wealth, titles, arms, armor, a place in the council. Now, she had the fear of the castlefolk. She was Lord Erik Ulfton’s successor. But who was she? She ran her fingers through her hair, and her second self in the vanity did the same.

 _You don’t like the way things are, do a better job._ “Who am I?” she said aloud to the vanity. _You are Ser Anna. You are your vows. You don’t like the way things are, do a better job._

“Promise me,” the vision was vivid in her memory. Ser Magnus with his gray beard, his fingers fumbling for Anna’s. “Promise me you’ll protect her.”

Astrid always said that the best part about being a sworn warrior was no more tough decisions. Anna could have laughed at that, but maybe it was true. Astrid remembered her vows, and kept them close. The vision of her teacher filled her mind, clad in brown tunic with sword at hand, braided hair fluttering in the spring breeze.

Anna worried at a strand of hair with a hand. _Remember your vows._ She moved her hands together, and tossed her hair back. Slowly, she tied one long braid. Then she moved her hands to the other side of her head, and tied a second. They fell over her green-armored shoulders like ember snakes in the grass.

 _My vows_ , she mouthed silently as she clutched one braid. The other. _My queen._ It was all she could do. She fell to her knees, the tears burning her eyes. _I’m sorry, Queen Elsa._ She pounded the floor with a fist, her tears flowing onto the rushes. _I’ll make you trust me again. I’m sorry._

 


	12. The Prisoner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And here's the second half. I have no idea what loony-toons out there want to read 100,000 words before getting to any Elsa-Anna interaction in a story that has the *sheer gall* to call itself Elsanna, but apparently there's more than a hundred of you, so... the world is crazy, eh?

 

The bridgegate stood before them, Sven’s head craned back to take in its height. “So, I guess you’re going to be living in there, huh?” said Kristoff.

Anna nodded, heart pounding. “It looks like it.”

Kristoff smiled. “Man, can you imagine just a few weeks ago, you were literally sleeping on forest dirt? No offense.”

“None taken,” she said, punching him lightly in the arm.

He recoiled. “Ow, you broke my shoulder!”

“I did not,” she said.

He put on a serious look. “Anna, you’re a knight now. You can’t just go around punching people. You’ve got to, like, defend their honor and stuff.”

She blinked at him. “Okay. Then, since I have dishonored you, I give you permission to punch me. Tit for tat.”

“Uh. No.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

He scrunched up his face. “Okay, okay, fine. But just remember, you asked for it.” He curled his forefinger into his thumb, and flicked her shoulder. “Ouch,” he said. “That stung more than I was expecting.”

She shot him a baleful look, and then laughed. They hugged. “You sure you’re gonna be okay, feistypants?”

“I’m sure. Promise you’ll come visit?”

“I’ll certainly try.” He grinned wide. “I bet Oaken and Anders are going to love to hear about this.”

 

* * *

 

The morning gloom sat untouched in Ser Anna’s bedroom, the knight kneeling before the vanity, hands clenched into tight fists. She wiped away her tears. “Okay,” she said aloud. “Pull yourself together, Anna. You can do this. You will make the queen trust you again. You will demonstrate your honor.” Slowly she stood. Her hand went to her side, and she patted Autumn’s hilt for luck. The ruby glimmered fiercely in the candlelight.

“Will you be wanting breakfast, m’lady?” asked Martin, when she emerged from her room into the solar.

“No, thank you, Martin,” said Anna. “The queen will be holding court all day, so your time is your own. How has your training been going?”

“Very well, m’lady. The master of arms calls me Hawk-eye. He says there’s no target I can’t arrow.”

Anna smiled at that. “That’s high praise. What of the other squires?”

Martin shrugged. “Few of them can use a bow. Some of them think crossbows are better. Little John said that crossbows make longbows pointless, but Ser Puck clouted him for that, and said that longbows nearly won the Albionese their war ‘gainst Lutetia.”

“Ser Puck knows his history.”

“Aye, m’lady, and his bowmanship. He spends many a day loosing shafts with me at the range.”

Anna smiled again. She was pleased to hear Martin was making so many friends. He got on great with the squires, and Ser Puck – a spindly young court knight with white hair, violet eyes, and a ridiculous jaunty cap – had taken very strongly to the boy.

“Then I sha’nt keep you anymore,” said Anna. “You are dismissed.”

Martin nodded stiffly. “Yes, m’lady. Thank you.” He hurried off.

Anna exited her solar and climbed the stone stairway to the top floor of the Queen’s Tower, where she found two white-enameled steel-plated Royal Guardsmen standing at attention outside the queen’s solar, their faces covered by visored helms topped with billowy blue silk plumes. When they noticed Anna, they saluted with their free hands; their right hands clutching the shafts of seven-foot halberds.

“Good morrow to you, my Lady Protector,” said one guardsman, whose voice Anna recognized as Ser Tazmus’s, or Tazzie as he was known around the yard. Many guardsmen were not knights, though some were – and though knighthood was not supposed to confer additional privileges on the knights who chose the path of Royal Guardsman, Anna often found herself favoring those with the title. Ser Tazmus, in particular, was blessed with the extraordinary good sense never to try Anna’s patience. Presently, he sat in her stead as interim Captain of the Guard. Anna might have minded more, but she considered Ser Tazmus a good man, and so long as her own honor was in question, his would serve.

She nodded in response. “Ser Tazmus,” she greeted him. “How fares the queen?”

“She is within, and safe. Currently taking a bath.”

“Who attends her?”

“Gerda.”

That was good. Gerda had been serving the family, for a long time, and wasas trustworthy as any were like to get. She was the castle Headmistress, a lesser title that meant she commanded the cooks and servants of the castle, a duty she performed admirably.

Anna nodded at this, and inclined her head to the other guard, who was called Flynt the Bastard, a saturnine young man who didn’t speak much, and whom Anna little trusted. Still, no one could deny his skill at arms, and so she had given him the honor of 2nd Lieutenant.

She continued on to the base of the Queen’s Tower.She found herself thinking about Lord Erik, and wondering if he ever had any doubts when he served as Lord Protector. She wished she could ask him, but he was dead, now, lying somewhere at the bottom of the Great Sea. They had called him the king’s right hand, so he must have surely done something right.

It was a short walk across the battlements from the Queen’s Tower to the White Keep, where the throne room was. There she was to await the queen’s pleasure, but the throne room was empty except for a pair of guards, one leaning against his halberd and snoozing. Anna woke him with a shout, and scolded him for sleeping on the job. “Yes, m’lady, sorry, m’lady,” the man replied snoozily. She then scolded the other guard on duty for not waking the first.

The stuffiness of the Arenborg became too much for her. The queen was known for taking long baths – it would be some time before Anna needed to be in the throne room. She left the keep out a back exit and trudged out into the snowy courtyard.

The air was crisp with cold, the sky all dark grays. The courtyards of the Arenborg were large and spacious, with room plenty to hold pavilions and, she knew, lavish outdoors feasts.Near the fjord’s edge, on the west side of the Arenborg, a short, crenellated inner wall, some 30 feet high, rose up to separate the courtyard from the outer portions of the castle, where the thrice-times tall outer walls shot out of the fjord like a sheer cliff. Beyond was open country, nestled between the wooded hills and snowcapped peaks of the Vestlandet.

Anna stared at the walls, then turned and went to the stables. “Saddle my horse,” she ordered a loafing stableboy, who took off in a run. He came back minutes later, pulling Anna’s horse by the reins.

She swung herself up on the saddle. “I will return in fifteen minutes. Be prepared to take my horse when I do.” The stableboy nodded, eyes wide. _Fear._ _He saw what I did to the_ _stablemaster’s_ _apprentice._

With a pang of sobering dismay, she brought her horse around, the same golden-brown mare that she’d driven down the Springway. The same horse she stole from the sellswords. Can one steal from the dead? She spent good time practicing at riding in the past few months, though she knew she had a long way to go before she could match the seat of lords and even squires who had been riding since they were much younger. Still, her horse was cooperative and good-tempered, and never threw fits. The mare reminded Anna somewhat of Sven, and so she took to feeding her carrots in her spare moments.

“I need to name you sometime,” she murmured to the horse once as she stroked its face. The horse simply looked at her with long eyes, and munched a carrot.

She rode out through the castle walls and into the Vale-By-The-Fjord, as much a sanctuary as any section of open country can truly be called. Outside the city, outside the castle. A peaceful place that few bothered to tread. Small wonder, that: the dead make poor company.

She stood atop her horse and stared at the standing stones that dotted the Royal Cemetery. The smell of salt water mingled in the crisp cool air, and the tides of the fjord made gentle waves upon the ice-covered rocky beach. The hill rose high and wide, the stones sparse upon its breadth. She rode between them until she came to the most recent additions: Two towering stones, their faces flat and smooth. Carved in each of them was the six-pointed snowflake. She read one:

 _This stone honors_ _Her Majesty IDEEN ARENDELLE,_ _formerly_ _IDEEN WESTERGUARD, Queen Consort to His Majesty the King. She was a kind, true, just, and noble soul, and the world is ever the poorer for her passing._ _She died at sea, and her body was never recovered._

His Majesty the King. The Young King, they called him, even now. He assumed the throne sixteen-some years ago, and then a boy of eighteen years. And now he was under the waves. Anna’s eyes glazed over the next rock. She trotted on a while until she came to a lonely stone, tall, thin, and narrow. This was what she came for. It read:

 _This stone honors_ _the Lord Protector ERIK ULFTON, from the town of Ulfton._

It bore no other adornments. The Lord Protectors were buried in the Royal Cemetery, too. Her horse whickered in the cold as she brought the mare around to face the stone.

“They say you were the best,” Anna said to the wind. “They say that nobody will ever match you, that the king and queen were always safe in your hands. And yet, the gods took you away and put me in your place. And my queen won’t even look at me.” Her mare pawed at the snowy ground. “It is my fault, I know. I’m not even sure why I came out here.” She paused. “What would you do in my place, I wonder?”

After a time, Anna turned her horse and rode back to the castle. She found the stableboy and dismounted wordlessly, leaving the horse to his care. Back across the snow she went, her greaves _crunch_ ing the snow with every step, and into the warm halls of the Arenborg once more.

She found the throne room still empty, albeit with two waking guardsmen instead of just the one. Anna climbed the dais and assumed a waiting posture by the carved-stone throne.

Soon enough, the guests and courtiers poured in, interspersed with court knights and guests, and guardsmen and men-at-arms who kept the whole moving through the doors. Men-at-arms lined the walls, halberds and pikes held erect. They trickled in for the better part of a long half-hour until, at last, the herald banged the end of his halberd against the ground. “All kneel for Her Majesty Queen Elsa of Arendelle, First of Her Name, the Ice-Blood.”

The courtiers knelt, and so did Anna, and Queen Elsa entered the room clad in a flowing teal-and-purple dress, her silvery-blonde hair pulled into tight bun, the snowflake crown perched delicately on her forehead. Ser Tazmus and Flynt escorted her in and took up positions by the door. She walked up the length of the room with a calm, quiet expression, fringed by members of her small council, and stepped up the dais to assume her seat on the throne. The small council took up their seats at the dais’s base. Anna felt a strange sense of pride standing atop the dais besides the queen, though the feeling guttered like a candle in the wind against the ever-present knowledge of the true distance between them.

Anna rose out of her genuflection when the queen sat, and patted Autumn’s hilt. She fixed her face into the stony expression of a stern Lord Protector, and prepared for a long day of saying and doing nothing at all, watching the hours tick by.

The doors to the hall burst open again when Lord Hugoss flubbed in, broad and fat and flanked by his men, all in navy blue surcoats, etched in gold on the front of each of which was the yellow five-pointed star of House Hugoss.

“My queen!” he boomed across the hall, as he strode up to kneel heavily before the dais. “I thank you for your audience.”

“Rise, my Lord. What news from the Southern Isles?”

His men helped him back to his feet with a slight struggle. He took a deep breath. “The king is much struck by the news. As Your Grace knows, he was also in Corona to attend Princess Rapunzel’s wedding when the storm struck. He only returned to his seat in København at the last moon’s turn.”

The queen nodded. “We knew this much. But he mentioned in his letter he had something important to say in person?”

The fat lord spread his fleshy hands. “Only that he is crushed by the loss of his sister, your mother. As you know, the two were not related of blood, but she was raised under the Westerguard roof and given the Westerguard name by her adoptive father.”

Queen Elsa raised a platinum eyebrow dubiously. “He required the personal company of my Lord High Admiral… to express his grief?”

The fat lord wiped his mouth, and shook his head with a slight frown. “There was… one other thing. The man was so in his cups that it made little sense to me, but-”

“Are you sure it was him who was too much in his cups, or you?” came a reedy voice from the oak chairs. Lord Joakim Myles leaned forward and steepled his fingers, smirking slightly.

The fat lord wobbled his jowls at the interruption. “I can hold my wine as good as any man – I daresay _every_ man,” he declared. “The king’s constitution is legendary as well. But he was in a grieving mood, and that kills a man’s resistance more surer than any poison. He said to me he lost not only a sister, but a son. The island of Blackstone was swallowed by the storm and, with it, all trace of his thirteenth son.”

A quiet formed. “This is the first I’ve heard of such,” said Queen Elsa. “Who else knows?”

The fat lord shook his head sadly. “Few and fewer, it would seem. The prince was neither well-known nor well-liked. The king beseeched me drunkenly to beg of you to lend such ships as you are able to aid in scouring the seas for the boy, a red-haired youth no older than you.”

The queen drummed her pale fingers on the arm of her throne, and rested her chin on her other hand’s palm. “This is quite a request.”

“He said you would consider it for your mother’s sake. The boy would be her nephew, at least by law.”

“Also my cousin, by the same token.” Queen Elsa sighed audibly. “And what is your opinion on this matter? You are the High Admiral.”

Lord Hugoss bowed his head humbly. “I was moved by the king’s grief, but… Your Grace, Blackstone was a small island, and the sea is huge. It has been months. Like as not, the boy is drowned or lost.”

The queen looked at Lord Hugoss a moment, and then nodded. “I thought so. Still, it would be an ill thing to turn him down when his grief is no less than mine.”

A voice spoke up from the oak chairs, staunch and cool. “The threat posed by Weselton requires us to keep our friends close,” said Lady Ysmir Corel, the Royal Spymaster, in her blacks-and-blues and long shadowed eyelashes. “I say we lend the South Islanders as many ships as they would have.”

“The king of the Southern Isles is a man of voracious appetites, much like our Lord Admiral,” said Lord Myles dryly. “He would take that offer at face value, make no mistake.”

“And what if we should have need of their help, should the duke come calling?” asked Lady Ysmir. “It is a small thing to lend a few ships.”

“Oh, come now,” said Lord Hugoss. “Her Grace is the Island King’s niece. Surely if it came to war, he would do everything in his power to help, whether we gave him his ships or not.”

“The Island King is a man of voracious appetites, true,” admitted Lady Ysmir, her tone sharp, “but he is also prickly and vain. We would do best not to insult him by denying him wholesale.”

“I agree,” said the queen. “We should help. Lord Hugoss, see that you assemble a fleet of a dozen ships to patrol the waters and search for my nuncle’s son. Keep it up for a month, and then return to port. That should be more than plenty.”

Lord Hugoss bowed. “As my queen commands.”

Ser Tore shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “How many combat-ready ships does that leave to patrol our own waters?”

“It _should_ be plenty,” said the queen. “The duke will not catch us unawares by the sea.”

The fat lord nodded. “Between here and Eastport, there are six-score battle-ready galleys and a quarter of that number in carracks. That is to say nothing of the clippers currently serving as trade vessels that make dock every other fortnight. Many have bonds with the port authority, and would accept impressment on a moment’s notice if it meant debt forgiveness. If the need is great, so will be the navy.”

That answer seemed to placate Ser Tore, and he gave a conciliatory gesture. “Very well, then.”

Just as Lord Hugoss assumed his seat at the base of the dais, a courier entered the room, his boots tracking snow behind him. “M’lords,” he said, and took a knee before the dais. “Your Grace. A warship has come into port, and the captain reports that a stowaway was found on board.”

“How does this concern us?” Lord Hugoss grunted. “Why did the captain not pitch the stowaway into the sea?”

“My lord, the captain says the stowaway was in a sorry state, half-drownded and starving, and he took pity on the poor creature. But also – the man claimed diplomatic immunity.”

“Did he have any heraldry to mark him by?” asked Lord Myles sharply. “Any letters or seals proving his person?”

“No – I don’t know, m’lord,” said the courier. “The captain has brought him. He awaits without, for your pleasure.”

Before Lord Myles could say anything, the queen waved a hand. “See him in. I would look upon this stowaway with mine own eyes before I condemned him to death.”

The courier left hurriedly, and shortly afterwards a tall man with brown hair and stubble appeared, leading two sailors who held between them a filthy-looking man in rags. His hair was dirty and unkempt and the color of ancient rust, his beard a massive tangle.

The captain took a knee. “My lords, Your Grace. This stowaway claims to be a man of great import.”

Lord Myles took the cue again. “Stowaway. You, there. Look at me.” The stowaway lifted his head and met Lord Myles’ gaze with sunken eyes. He smiled a cracked smile through his tangled beard. The steward spoke to him: “You claim diplomatic immunity, do you?”

The stowaway chuckled raspily. “Aye, that I do, if it please my lord.”

“And can you prove it?”

The stowaway’s smile faltered. “Not as such, no, my lords. In truth I come to bandy words with your queen.” His eyes swiveled up to Queen Elsa. Anna tensed, and her hand went to her sword hilt protectively. The stowaway did not fail to notice the motion; nor, it seemed, did Lord Myles.

“You’d best watch your tongue, stowaway,” said Lord Myles dryly. “Our Lady Protector has a habit of disembowling folk who would besmirch Her Grace’s honor.”

The stowaway chuckled again. “I can’t prove anything to _you_ , my lord, but your queen is a different story. Just a few moments of her time, that’s all I ask.”

“You want my attention, you have it,” said Queen Elsa. “Now, speak.”

“I was thinking we could discuss more privily, Your Grace.”

Queen Elsa frowned. “That is not currently possible, I’m afraid.” Queen Elsa spoke to the captain next: “You did well bringing this man here. You may go.” And then to Ser Tazmus and Flynt: “Please take this stowaway and confine him in the dungeons. I must needs speak with him later, and I would prefer he didn’t run off.”

The stowaway cackled, and coughed heavily. “Run off? Do I look in any state to run off?” He paused. “Your Grace?” he added as an afterthought.

“You also don’t look like a diplomat, yet apparently appearances can be deceiving,” said the queen coolly. Ser Tazmus and Flynt took the stowaway under the arms and hauled him off to the dungeons, the man cackling a raspy cackle the entire way. Anna let herself relax after that.

The rest of the day’s proceedings were less eventful than that, and eventually Queen Elsa declared the petitioners be dismissed until the next day. Her and the small council then exited for the councilroom to discuss the affairs of state.

The main order of business that day stemmed from arranging the ships to search for the Island King’s lost son, and the potential ramifications it had come outbreak of war with Weselton. “The duke wants blood, mark my words,” warned Lady Ysmir. “My sources all agree he means to strike soon, and none too-subtly.”

Lord Myles snorted. “Do they, now? Pray, what would you have us do?”

“Reconciliation,” said Lady Ysmir earnestly. “We must end the embargo against them and open up trade again. And, more importantly, we must shore up our defenses.”

Lord Hugoss grunted over his cup. “I already mentioned that we have hundreds of ships available to defend us at sea. The duke would need to hire sellships to match our numbers, and that’s in the east alone. The gods help him if we muster our allies in Corona and the Southern Islands, to say nothing of the longships from our holdings in Vestlandet.”

“That is, unless the duke is gathering ships in silence,” said Lord Myles. He narrowed his eyes at Lady Ysmir. “Would our Royal Spymaster know anything about that?”

“None of my sources have hinted as much,” she replied. “Though I’ll be sure to look into it. And ships are little use in the event of an attack over land.”

Ser Tore glowered at her. “Lord Reginald has given me assurance that his banners are always ready to march. If the duke comes, he will present us with the full strength of the dale in little more than a moment’s notice.”

“And what if the Linnaeuses of Eastgreen revolt again?”

“Karl Linnaeus is Lord of Eastgreen for the nonce. It was his son, Ser Jarl, acting as his Lord Father’s tanist, who rose up the last time. Karl Linnaeus is old, has no heirs, and owns half the land he had twenty years ago. He will do nothing.”

Lady Ysmir wrinkled her nose. “If you say so. What if he should die in the meanwhile? Will his niece rise against us?”

The queen stirred. “Lady Lyla was my mother and father’s ward. She and I are fast friends.”

“Are you certain, Your Grace? Lady Lyla is a Weselton countess, and not of House Linnaeus. She has no reason to love Arendelle.”

The queen looked at Lady Ysmir strangely. “I am completely certain. Lady Lyla will not rise against me.I am, however, perhaps not as certain as you are in the belief that the duke means to attack.”

Lady Ysmir scowled. “I have already explained that the duke is outraged. He has chafed under the embargo and is chagrined that we have pinned the assassination attempt on him…”

“And he still refuses to admit his guilt,” pointed out Lord Myles, whose narrowed eyes had been darting between Lady Ysmir and the queen while they spoke. “Why should we care if he is starving his own people to assuage his stunted ego?”

“Because a lion backed into a corner will attack,” insisted Lady Ysmir.

“And what about a weasel?” growled Ser Tore, which elicited a few laughs around the table. “If he attacks us, land or sea, it will be folly. We are as strong as we’ve ever been, and even if the Island King doesn’t come to our aid, we would be hard-pressed to lose a war against the Duchy of Weselton.” Murmurs of agreement.

“You haven’t mentioned your own banners,” brought up Lord Myles, pointing an accusing finger at the Royal Spymaster. “Would the Wings answer a call to arms should it be war?”

Lady Ysmir scowled at him. “You would question my loyalty? You _snake._ If it is war, my daughter will raise the banners before all of the rest.”

“Yes, but for what side?” mused Lord Myles, and he made a show of drumming his chin with thoughtful fingers.

Lady Ysmir shot up out of her seat. “Jest and jape all we want, but I tell you, if there is no reconciliation, the duke _will_ move against us, be it folly or not. He is old and done and his pride is dust. He will go out with a bang before a whimper. If we are not prepared we will lose more lives than is necessary.”

“Oh, I quite agree.” Lord Myles suddenly looked quite serious. “But I think you’re on the wrong track. I believe that the duke will attempt to stage a second assassination attempt on the queen.”

That seemed to take Lady Ysmir aback. Lord Hugoss coughed on his wine. “An assassination…?” Lord Hugoss blinked. “But that would do nothing for him. The queen is well-guarded, and after the last one, we would know for _sure_ that it was him…”

“Indeed,” said Lord Myles. “However, as the good Lady says, the duke is old and done, but he has heirs. The queen has no heirs. She is the last of her line, and if she should perish before siring an heir of her own…” He spread his hands. “Even if all of Arendelle came down on him for it, the history books would name him the winner in the Arendelle-Weselton feud, and our kingdom’s years would be numbered by however long it took for the lords of the land to forget what the snowflake looks like.”

Queen Elsa frowned. “That is a good point, but… would the duke dare?”

“I think so,” shrugged Lord Myles.

Lady Ysmir sat down again, looking thoughtful. “It seems unlikely, but… now would be as good a time as any. For the nonce, the Lord Protector is a rookie upstart, and-”

Before Anna could open her mouth to retort, Lord Myles laughed loudly. “The Royal Spymaster never even once considered that the queen’s enemies might want to _assassinate her_ , and is now calling the champion of the Queen’s Tourney a ‘rookie upstart.’ The irony is as palpable as summer in Tirrenia.”

Lady Ysmir purpled with rage. “You don’t seriously expect me to believe that this Lady Protector has any experience at all with protecting someone from assassins?”

“No, no, I quite understand your point, but, well, there’s an old Eastern saying: something like, ‘don’t throw stones if you live in a glass keep.’” He smirked. “For what it matters, I think the Lady Protector’s wroth itself will scare off any would-be assassins. Those not smart enough to be cowed will get the Giant’s haircut.

“That having been said, it would obviously serve if our Royal Spymaster was _on top_ of an assassination attempt, preferably _before_ it happens, unlike last ti-”

“Enough, Lord Myles,” interrupted Queen Elsa. She turned to Lady Ysmir. “Do what you think you must, my lady. But I believe Lord Myles has a good notion here.”

Lady Ysmir pursed her lips and bowed her head stiffly. “Yes, Your Grace. But I… I am still not convinced. In my opinion, one failed assassination would most likely cow an old man like the duke. But I will look into it.”

“See that you do,” said the queen, and she rose from her chair. “I will go speak to the prisoner now. You are all dismissed for the day.” She nodded at Lord Myles. “Except for you, my Lord High Steward. I would speak with you. Walk with me.” The queen exited the room with Kai and Lord Myles at her heels, and Anna moved to follow when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She turned and saw Lady Ysmir, glaring at her. “My lady,” said Anna stiffly. “What do you need?”

“A word,” said the lady. She gave a false smile. “We talk precious little, you and I. What do you make of Lord Myles?”

Anna frowned. “He seems like a decent enough sort,” she said warily. “Why do you ask?”

Lady Ysmir’s smile vanished. “Something about him troubles me. He has always been an unctuous worm, but this business with Weselton…” She looked distracted. “I have seeded the duke’s court up and down with informers, and all of them agree that an assassination is out of the question. Yet, the way Lord Myles puts it, it makes a great deal of sense. What am I to believe?”

“Perhaps your informers are not as trustworthy as you think,” said Anna coolly.

Lady Ysmir’s expression turned sour. “My informants are trustworthy. I have been at this business for many years, don’t you presume to tell me how to do my work. But this entire situation reeks to me.” She paused, and looked Anna up and down, her gaze withering. “Does the queen still keep you away?” she asked.

Anna stiffened. “She does.”

The corners of the lady’s mouth twitched. “A pity. You are only good for that freakish strength of yours.” She huffed. “I think the time is well and come to affect a reconciliation with Weselton. The council insists we are guarded on all sides, but I would not chance it. I aim to see that the duke and his retinue are extended a peace-offering. Until the matter is resolved, I have decided that the Royal Guard is to stay in Ser Tazmus’s hands.” She turned to leave.

Anna heard herself speak before she knew it. “ _My lady_ ,” she called, her voice dripping with venom. “Might I ask you a question?”

She stopped, and turned her head the slightest amount. “If you must.”

“I must ask what I have done to make you hate me so. Is it because I shamed your son, Ser Frawn, in the tourney?”

To her surprise, Lady Ysmir smiled at that, ever so slightly. “You are an upjumped peasant girl with cotton between her ears, whose only lordly trait is knowing how to swing a bit of metal around. My lady, why do I hate you? Well, what is there to _like?_ ” And she left without another word.

Seething, and finding she was alone in the council room, Anna clenched a fist and punched the wall, her gauntleted knuckle _thud_ ding against a hanging tapestry. The worst part was the small, niggling feeling that told her maybe Lady Ysmir was _right._ Maybe she wasn’t anything special. Maybe she was in over her head.

She forced herself to calm down. _No. You said your words. Nothing she or anyone else does can change that. You have no choice._ Anna unclenched her fist and let it drop, hanging limply at her side. She drew herself up and stomped out of the councilroom.

She was making her way down a side hall when she turned a corner and nearly crashed into something big and blue. “Oh – I beg your pardon,” she said, flustered, anger giving way to embarrassment.

The familiar voice of Lord Hugoss greeted her. “Ah, Ser Anna!” he boomed. “I meant to talk to you after the council meeting, but I needed to see the captain of that ship. The one the stowaway was on. I’d have a word, if you don’t mind?” His blond-bearded face was somehow more sallow than usual.

Anna blinked. “What is it, my lord?”

He dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. Even in the cold of winter, the man still sweat bullets. “It is only that I’ve heard rumors, ser. Bad rumors.” He frowned. “Rumors that you were injured last month, some say quite badly. What happened?”

Anna turned her eyes to the floor. “I… don’t know, my lord. The memory is fuzzy. Some say it was a ghast attacked Her Grace and I while we were at the lagoon. Master Penrose says I developed a frightful chill, and even now it has not fully recovered.” She looked up. “But the queen was uninjured.”

“I… see…” He put his handkerchief away. “At least Her Grace was unharmed. I’d say it was a job well-done, in that case.”

Anna was surprised to hear that. “Others might disagree, my lord,” she said cautiously. “Her Grace has dismissed me from her personal guard.”

“She _what?_ ” exclaimed the big man, eyes bulging. “But… but why? Her Grace was terrible fond of you.”

“It may be, my lord, that she simply came to her sense.” Anna made a fist and pounded her chestplate. “But I am resolved to prove my worth to her again.”

Lord Hugoss nodded, and he hooked his thumbs through his massive belt, his brow furrowed. “Damnation. Now I know what that Lady Ysmir was babbling about. I thought as long as _you_ attended the queen, we’d have no cause to worry. But Lord Myles mentioning assassinations today…” He shook his head. “I have hundreds of ships and thousands of sailors at my beck and call. Twenty-thousand levies alone sit between here and Eastgreen. Yet all of that is worthless if one Lothar sneaks into the castle.”

“Lady Ysmir believes that an assassination is unlikely.”

The fat lord grunted. “She _wants_ to believe an assassination is unlikely. But she has the right of it in one case: If we make our peace with Weselton, we can put this behind us.”

“But… my lord…” Anna hesitated. “This was the duke’s doing in the first place. He sent assassins after the king and queen.”

“Aye, he did,” admitted Lord Hugoss. “But not all crimes can be punished. If we can save the queen by forgiving him on this one matter, then by the gods, it will have been worth it.”

Anna bit her lip instead of reply. _You will have bought a temporary peace at best,_ she wanted to reply; though she knew little and less of politics, she couldn’t imagine the duke would let things go at this point. But there was another thing that was true: the duke was old, his remaining years were few. It might be that simply waiting him out was the best option.

She suddenly wanted very badly to attend to the queen, or at the very least to see her, make sure she was okay, confirm with her own eyes. She bowed to the fat lord. “Please excuse me, my lord. I have important business to attend to.”

Lord Hugoss bowed in return. “Aye, ser. May your sword-arm be strong, and may the gods watch over us all. And the queen.”

Anna proceeded down the hallway into a tall stairwell that led down to the bottom of the keep, where the dungeons were accessible through a low, narrow hallway of brick and mortar. At the end stood a dimly-lit antechamber where the dungeon master kept his offices, at the far end of which was the oak-and-iron door that led to the cells.

The dungeon master was not present, but there was a turnkey, sitting and rubbing his eyes, and the door was flanked by Ser Tazmus and Flynt. Ser Tazmus greeted her with a “My lady.”

“Where is the queen?” Anna asked the two guardsmen.

“She is within, interrogating the prisoner,” said Ser Tazmus.

“Is anyone with her?”

“Not at present, no. She demanded privacy for the questioning.”

Anna furrowed her brow. “So she’s alone with the prisoner?” Ser Tazmus nodded. “I must needs see her at once. May I go through?”

Ser Tazmus and Flynt looked at each other, and then back to Anna. Flynt spoke: “M’lady, the queen demanded privacy. She asked for no interruptions… especially from you.”

That floored her. She gave the guardsmen an incredulous look. “What do you mean, ‘especially from me’?”

“He means that Her Grace told us specifically that _you_ were not to disturb her for her interrogation,” said Ser Tazmus, sounding abashed and hesitant.

 _Are you really surprised, you upstart little peasant girl?_ She turned suddenly and closed her eyes. _I am not wanted here,_ she thought.

“Thank you, ser. I will leave you to your watch.” Anna left the dungeons and the keep and the castle, her cloak wrapped all around her armor, hood drawn up, head low, shame hot in her face and eyes. She couldn’t stay in that castle any longer. She wanted out. She wanted wine.

It was late afternoon, the skies above Crystalwater a streak of oranges and yellows. Anna cut through a side alley that led windingly down to the commons, the quarter of the city stacked with plain houses and lowly soupshops and winesinks. There was crime in these parts, as she knew, but Ser Anna, Knight of Crystalwater, nominal Lady Protector had no fear of lowborn brigands with cracked iron daggers. She would cut any such down and add to her legacy.

She stepped around a corner and found a dreary winesink marked by a sign in the front that bore a winged goblet. She stepped through the threshold and into the dim, timber interior of the shop. “A cup of your most palatable red,” she said to the shopkeep. She thrust some coppers into his palm and took her wine to a seat at the dark end of the bar.

Anna scanned the room from end to end. The winesink was packed with comers and goers, many of them quiet and sipping their drinks, keeping low conversation amongst themselves. The most lively group was at a round table where five men sat dicing. Four of them wore chainmail, three with black-and-gray checkered surcoats and the last with a surcoat of faded yellow and the design of a coiled, green snake on the front. The last man was dressed in tattered finery, and had a rough brown beard. The armored men she took for members of the city watch, though she did not recognize the heraldry of the snake. The fifth man – just a gambler.

She brooded over her cup until a sudden uproar from the gambling table startled her. The man in yellow was on his feet, his hand gone to his side where, she saw, he wore a longsword. Anna felt her fingers itch.

“You cheat! You lousy cheat!” he shouted at the gambler.

“That’s not cheatin’, ser, that’s just good luck!”

“That’s cheating, damn me if it isn’t. I could have all of your fingers for that, you swine.”

“No cheatin’, ser, honest!”

The other men stood up, and at the man in yellow’s behest, grabbed the gambler by the arms. “Now, no more of your lies,” snarled the man in yellow, as one of the black-and-grey checkers punched the gambler in the gut. He crinkled over and wheezed. A black-bearded man at the other end of the bar stood up. The rest of the onlookers looked on with silent, somber expressions, attempting to avoid the yellow man’s eyes.

“Oi,” Anna heard herself say above the din. “Let that man alone.”

The watchmen turned to look at her, expressions of bewilderment on their faces. The yellow surcoat looked her up and down. “Do you know who you’re talking to, girl?”

“A dead man, if he doesn’t let that cheating gambler go.”

The man in yellow scowled, and drew his sword. A murmur ran through the winesink, the eyes of the onlookers widening and narrowing variously. “You’ve got a lot of guts, kid, I’ll grant you that,” said the man in yellow, pointing his sword at Anna.“But you should know that Ser Jonathan of House Myles does not suffer insolence well.”

“Neither does Ser Anna of Crystalwater,” replied Anna. She pulled back the hem of her cloak and tapped a gauntleted finger on Autumn’s hilt. The ruby flashed.

The color drained from Ser Jonathan’s face. He lowered his sword. “The… Lady Protector, is it?”

“The Green Devil,” said one of the other watchmen. “She tore the Giant’s head off with her bare hands.”

“Haven’t heard that second name,” said Anna dryly. “But yes, that’s me. You shouldn’t bare steel unless you mean to use it, Ser Jon.”

“O-Of course,” said Ser Jonathan, and he sheathed his sword clumsily. For a second he looked expectant, and then he tried to put on a winsome smile. “My father sits the council, my lady. Perhaps you know him, Lord Joakim Myles?”

“Might be I have,” said Anna curtly. “Does he know his son spends his days skulking shady winesinks and emptying the pockets of gamblers?”

“I, um…” Ser Jonathan seemed at a loss for words. “Please, my lady, I meant no offense. This man is a cheater! On my sword, I swear it!”

“Might be that’s so. For your father’s sake, you may take the silver that’s yours and go. But I won’t suffer you to harm that man any more.”

Ser Jonathan clenched his jaw, his eyes growing hard for a moment, until he huffed out a breath and leaned forward in a quick bow. “Yes, my lady. You are most kind.” He and his men gathered up their coin and left the winesink in a hurry.

No sooner did they leave than people from all over the shop came to crowd around Anna. She clutched her cup close and looked between them suspiciously. The man with a huge black beard came forward and set a hand down on her shoulder. “Aye, let me buy you a drink.”

For the rest of the evening, Anna did not pay for any wine, as it seemed every patron in the store wanted to offer her the pleasure. The man accused of cheating was exceptionally ingratiating. “Begging your pardons, m’lady, but those men would surely ‘ave ‘ad my fingers off were it not for your chivalry.”

“My chivalry?” repeated Anna, nonplussed.

“Aye,” said a woman, butting in. “Old Mo may be a cheat, but he knows a true knight when he sees one: honest, handsome, honorable – all things he ain’t!”

“That bloody knight and his cronies in the watch is always struttin’ about with that garish green snake of his,” spat another man. “Glad as hell to see ‘m run off with his tail between his legs. Say, can I buy you a cup, Ser Anna? Yer nursin’ dregs…”

As she drank, and drank, and drank (because she didn’t have the heart to refuse), the patrons all regaled her with stories they’d heard of her own bravery, asking her for her input, and whether this or that was _really_ true. For the large part, it amused her, and the patrons were such a bright and spiritly lot on account of the humbling of Ser Jonathan that she found herself really enjoying their company. But on the whole, she was deeply moved. She stared into her cups as she thought about everything she believed she knew about her reputation. _You’d think me_ _Ser Anna the Good_ _, to hear them tell it_.

As new patrons entered the store and saw the commotion, they hobbled over to see what was the matter. And all at once, a dozen voices would rise and explain how Ser Anna, the city’s very own knight, vanquished Ser Jonathan and twenty other watchmen single-handedly, and saved the whole winesink, and also the city, and also the dale.

At some point, the slaying of the Giant was mentioned, and that sobered the conversation somewhat. “The Giant was a good knight, it’s true,” said a man deep in his cups. “He fought valiantly against the weasels, and he always respected his opponents.”

“They said when his blood was up, he slew friend and foe alike,” warned a woman. “Valiant man, aye, maybe so, but vicious as all-get-out.”

“I was at the tourney,” said a man. “Ser Anna grabbed the Giant’s sword and twisted it from his hands.”

“What was it like, fighting the giant?”

They were waiting on her, now. “It was unreal,” she said, slowly, face flushed with wine. “He was unstoppable. I meant to yield, but he must not have heard me. I didn’t mean to kill him.” She paused. “I said a prayer for him after he died. In the name of the gods.”

The patrons nodded solemnly at that. “That’s how he’d have wanted it, I’m sure,” said the man with the huge black beard, and he clapped Anna on the shoulder. The mood picked up again after that, when someone began miming the look on Ser Jonathan’s face when he recognized the Lady Protector. Laughter rattled the cups, shouts of acclaim rang in the rafters, several toasts to the Knight of Crystalwater were proposed (and drained), and Anna lost herself to the grape.

Anna left the winesink stumbling on her feet. The sky was deep with dusk, and a pallid blue had settled over all. It was snowing. With a light laugh, she threw her head back and opened her mouth, sticking out her tongue in the hopes of catching some stray snowflakes. “Snow, snow,” she sang; “I love you, snow.”

She almost fell down when a strong hand grabbed her under her left arm and helped her up. She looked: the man with the huge black beard. Not sitting, she could tell he was gigantic, easily seven feet tall, and broad in the shoulders and chest.

“Careful there, my lady,” said the man. “You seem to have had too much to drink.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Anna, laughing unintentionally. She cleared her throat. “I must needs return to the castle so I can sleep it off.”

The man laughed, a deep, booming noise. “I’ll escort you there, if you don’t mind. ‘Tis a dangerous time of night for young girls to be wandering alone.”

“You needn’t worry for me, valiant ser, I am a knight.”

“And I am a lord,” said the man, laughing again.

They walked for a while. When the gates of the Arenborg came into view, he spoke, his voice deeper and more solemn than it had been earlier. “I was very touched to hear you speak that way of Ser Richard.”

“The Giant?” said Anna, after a moment’s confusion.

“Aye, him. I always knew Ser Richard to say a prayer for every man he killed. Their ghosts went with him everywhere. He always said he wished to die in battle against a worthy opponent. I am glad that his wish came true.”

Anna blinked up at the man. “Who are you?” They now stood before the Arenborg.

He looked at her, his eyes unreadable pools of black. “I am called Lord Morning, the Lord of Dawnspring.”

“You… You are Lord Reginald. Lord Reginald Morning.” Her eyes widened. “M-My lord. I did not recognize you.”

He smiled. “I would not expect you to, my lady. We have never met before. I make it a habit to travel with a minimal guard and minimal decorations, and to frequent the cheapest and least suspicious of taverns, inns, and winesinks. I suppose the gods intended me to meet you today, the person who killed my brother.”

Anna lowered her head. “I… my lord, forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive.” He clapped her on the shoulders. “Cheer up. Everybody dies sooner or later. Whatever rises must soon fall. This is the lesson we Mornings take from the sun. But we do not despair, because we know another morning will always rise. ‘Morning will come.’ Those are our words.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Let it not be said that Ser Richard died pointlessly, without a blade in his hands, but in combat against one who could best him. He met his sunset with courage and dignity.”

Anna felt her soul lighten a little. She met his eyes, black and fierce. “Yes, my lord. As you say.”

He pulled back and looked up, his eyes scanning the bridgegate and seeming to take in the snowy twilight. “During the Weselton war, my brother killed his best friend. The knight’s name was Ser Danton, and he was sworn to his father, the old Lord Linnaeus of Eastgreen. But his brother ran the lordship, and rebelled when the duke’s armies marched through. Ser Danton knew it was treason, but he had no choice but to do as his liege lord commanded. He met Ser Richard on the battlefield, and his end. I know my brother never forgave himself for that. He’s been called brutish, and uncaring, and monstrous. I’m sure you thought so yourself when he didn’t accept your yielding. Aye, he had his demons.” He grunted. “Please excuse me, my lady. I forget myself.”

“That’s all right,” said Anna quietly.

They stood in silence for several moments, the snow falling black and white around them. Suddenly Lord Morning reached into a pocket in his cloak and brought out a small, blue ring.

“My brother will kill me for this, but it was Ser Richard’s dying request, so he can go bugger himself.” He looked Anna in the eyes, and knelt so his face was level with hers. His voice was low and steady. “This ring belonged to Ser Danton. When he lay dying in the passes, my brother held him in his arms and watched as Ser Danton’s final act was to remove this ring and place it in his hands. Ser Richard kept it in his private chambers. He told me: ‘If I ever die in battle, give the ring to the one who kills me.’ Hold out your hand, ser.”

Anna held out her right hand, the green gauntlet looking gray in the low-light of evening. Carefully, with both hands, Lord Morning placed the ring in her palm. Anna looked at it: it was blue, completely blue all around, and seemed to glow and even move as her eyes chased the whorls across its surface like beads on blown glass.

Lord Morning curled Anna’s hand closed around the ring. “This ring,” he said hoarsely, “is special. Ser Danton claimed it protected him. People scoffed at him, as they are wont to scoff at things they don’t understand… but in the Up-And-Downs, you learn that scorn is best afforded on the things you understand best.” He stood up. “And now, Ser Anna, I’m afraid I’ve taken quite enough of your time. I must be back to my inn; my men are no doubt worried about me.”

Anna nodded, her throat dry. “Yes, my lord. And…” She didn’t know what to say. She cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

He smiled sadly at her, and turned and walked away, his black cloak with the silver sunburst on it trailing behind him in the snow-speckled wind.

Anna opened her hand and looked at the ring again, as if to confirm it was still there. The blues danced in the twilight. She closed her fist around it, tight, and sprinted across the castle bridge, courtyard, through the keep until she stood before her solar door. She was feeling queasy – the wine, no doubt.

She entered her solar, stopping by the armor stand to remove every piece. She set the ring down on a table as she worked. _Where is Martin?_ she thought as she wrestled her greaves off. When she was done, she took the ring and went into her room, changing into a nightgown and throwing herself face-first on the bed.

 _Too much wine,_ she thought, and turned over. She held the ring up above her head. The moonlight from the window caused it to glimmer at her. She tucked herself under the covers as she continued to admire the ring. Eventually, she slipped it onto a finger on her left hand, rolled over, and embraced a drunken sleep.

A large man stood at the crest of the pass, where the rock teeth of the hill met to form a thoroughfare that no more than three men could cross abreast. Or one man when that man was Ser Richard.

Ser Danton drew his sword. Elderfyre’s steel reflected the sunlight, the emerald in its pommel twinkling like the eyes of the woman he loved. On his mailed finger sparkled her ring. He stepped forward across the white, fresh-fallen snow.

“Ser Danton,” rumbled the Giant. “There are traitors at your back.”

“I know. I brought them here.”

“So it’s true, then. You seek to depose the king.”

“I seek to serve my liege lord.”

Ser Richard drew his sword, five feet of sharp, shining steel. “I don’t want to kill you, Ser Danton.”

“Aye,” said Ser Danton sadly. “But you will.”

“Aye,” agreed the Giant. “I will.”

When the steel song was sung, Ser Danton lay in the black snow, and the huge man towered over him. The fallen knight extended his hand. “Take it.”

“Your ring?” said the Giant.

“Aye, good ser. It’s magic, just like her. It really is. Take good care of it, I beg you.”

“I will. By the love I bear you, I will. I am so sorry,” said the Giant, eyes glistening. Ser Danton put the ring in his hand.

“Me too,” said Ser Danton, and died.

 


	13. The Reconciliation

 

Morning came too painfully and too quickly. It was still dark when Ser Anna awoke, and cold. After laying, for awhile, with her eyes buried in the crook of her elbow, she jumped up with a start and plodded over to her dresser, resolved to dress and get some water before engaging the day. It was as she was pulling an undertunic out of a drawer that she recognized the blue ring still on her finger, and then remembered the dream she had the night before. She tore off her nightgown and changed into dayclothes.

She went into her solar and peeked out the door into the gray stone landing beside the spiral steps of the tower. Slowly she stepped out, and turned a corner to find the door to the squire’s quarters. She knocked heavily. No answer.

With a frown, she went back into her solar. _Where is that boy?_ she wondered. She looked mournfully at her armor. _I can’t put that on without help._ She went back to her room and fetched a padded green woolen doublet with a gold stripe down the center and slipped into it. Then she jumped into a pair of tight cowhide breeches and slipped on some tall brown leather boots. Her mind went back to the ring as she picked up Autumn and fastened it to the swordbelt at her waist. She shivered. Over the ring she slipped on a beaten hand-hugging leather glove, and on her other hand as well. She threw her gold crocus-embroidered cloak around her shoulders.

She had a mind to visit Maple that day. Not only had it been awhile since she had seen the young witch, but she wanted to hear what she had to say about the ring. Lord Morning had said it was special, but in her dream, the knight said it was magical _._ She briefly considered seeing Master Penrose, but, no – Sydney was not a real wizard. Like as not he’d just shrug at her.

It was still snowing, but her cloak held back the chill well enough. To the armorers’ quarter she went, and through there to the alley where Maple’s potion shop sat in residence. A black cat skulked in the snow outside the small building. Anna knocked on the front door.

Maple answered a few seconds later, wrapped in a heavy purple shawl and thick woolen robes. Her green hair curled around the sides of her head, and her purple hat sat tall and gnarled on her head. She blinked green eyes at Anna, and then smiled her tooth-missing smile.

“Anna!” she exclaimed, and jumped out into the snow to hug the hapless knight. “It’s been ages! I thought you forgot all about me.”

“How could I dare?” said Anna. Maple pulled away and went back inside the shop. “Come in!” she said. “You’re letting out the warm.” Anna did as she was bid, hitting her boots against the doorframe to knock the snow loose.

The inside of the shop was small and cozy, as it was the last time Anna had been inside, which was to deliver chests of gold coins. Now, the chests were nowhere to be found, but the shop looked otherwise the same as it had before. On the round table in the center of the room sat a pot of tea and a single white teacup, and the table was circled by a couple of chubby maroon armchairs. There were some fat tallow candles around the room, all different colors but glowing the same orange flames. The room was close and warm despite there being no fire, let alone a fireplace to have it in. Anna loosened the clasp on her cloak.

Maple went to a cupboard that seemed to lean in every direction at once. From a drawer, she produced a second small white teacup and brought it back to the table. She sat down on a plush chair and motioned for Anna to do the same.

“Thank you,” said Anna as Maple poured her a cup of tea.

“Don’t mention it.” She handed the cup over. It felt warm and smelled faintly of strawberries. “It’s good to see you. Grandmama has been away lately, and I’ve been dreadful bored here by myself.”

Anna looked around the room. “I don’t see those chests of gold anywhere.”

“Is that the only reason you came?”

“No.” Anna sipped her tea.

Maple sipped her tea too, and sat back with eyes closed.

“What did you do with all the gold, anyway?” asked Anna, curious in spite of herself.

A smile crawled across Maple’s face, and she cracked an eye. “Oh, I invested it.”

“Really? In what? I’m sorry – I shouldn’t pry.”

“You’re fine! I owe it to you, remember, Anna? Ah, I guess I should say _ser_ now.”

“You can call me Anna.” She smiled at the witch.

Maple _heh_ ed. She leaned forward. “Word around town is that the Knight of Crystalwater gave the Knight of Snakes a proper thrashing last night.”

“Is that so?” Anna frowned. “I didn’t expect word to spread so quickly,” she said into her teacup.

“Is it true, then? Did you thrash him? If you tell me, I’ll tell you what I invested your tournament winnings in.” She winked.

Anna put her teacup down. “It’s not really true,” she said. “I only threatened a city watchman. Ser Jonathan was his name. He was bullying some poor soul over a game of dice. I showed him my sword and sent him running.”

“Ah, that’s not what I heard. I heard you cut him down in the street after he beat a man and his wife down.”

Anna frowned. “That’s a very creative alteration to the truth.”

“I’ll say. I’m not sure which I like better, though.”

“So, the gold?”

“Ah, yes,” said Maple, looking quite pleased with herself. “Well, to tell the truth, I had some outstanding fees with the thieves’ guild that needed paying.”

“How is that an investment?”

“It’s an investment in not getting shanked in an alley. And I live in an alley, remember.” She slurped her tea.

Anna wasn’t pleased to hear that. “If you’re having trouble with some brigands, you should have come to me.” She felt her hand go to Autumn’s hilt.

Maple laughed loudly, and covered her mouth with her free hand. “Oh! Very gallant of you to offer, but you know it was all my own fault.”

“How so? They’re _thieves_ , Maple.”

“And I’m a witch. I just took out a loan I couldn’t pay back.”

“How did you end up ten thousand gold flakes in debt, though?”

“Oh, it wasn’t near so much as that. But it was quite a lot.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Maple considered for a moment. “Well, I know what you’re going to say… but listen anyway. I hired them.”

Anna gave Maple a dubious look. “What for?”

“To steal something. Several somethings, actually. I’m looking for something, you see.” She started to look a little uncomfortable. She crossed and uncrossed her legs.

“Maple, stealing _is_ wrong.”

“I know that,” snapped Maple, an impatient, even irritated look flitting across her face. “But the thing I’m looking for is mine, by rights. Grandmama told me. Only she said I won’t ever find it unless I open my eyes. I asked to use hers, but she told me her eyes were over there.” Maple pointed to the corner of the room, where a glass orb sat on a small metal pedestal.

“I don’t understand.”

“Me neither,” said Maple, and she crossed her arms with a huff. “That crystal ball won’t work for me. I know I’m saying all the right incantations, but I-” She looked at Anna nervously. “This is all legal, you know.”

Anna smiled blandly. “Oh, yes, I can see that. All of the thieves and stuff.”

She had meant it as a jest, but Maple did not seem amused. “You know a lot of magic is banned by royal decree,” she said darkly. “Especially the study of such. Are you going to arrest me, _ser?_ ”

That took Anna aback. “Maple, I was joking. A harmless jape, that’s all it was. I wouldn’t arrest you.”

“Really?” asked Maple coolly. “Even if you knew I was breaking the king’s laws by studying some really _really_ dangerous magic?”

Anna worked her mouth, feeling uneasy. “I… I don’t know. I suppose I’d have to think about it.”

To her surprise, Maple relaxed at that, and sat back in her chair. She sipped her tea. “That’s good enough for me. Goodness, you just offered to kill for me and you didn’t even hear the whole story.”

Anna felt abashed at that. “Well, I – I – If someone is threatening you, Maple, I would – well, I would have to take your side.” She felt herself redden a bit. “We are friends, after all.”

“Yeah,” said Maple. She gave a coy smile, her eyes brightening up. “We are.”

After the conversation settled, Maple launched into an enthusiastic, tuneless humming, her fingers drumming the side of her teacup. Anna thought she looked quite the sight in her thick purple robes and looming hat, humming and bobbing her head left and right. It lightened her heart to see it. Something about Maple was ineffably cheerful compared to the dreary confines of the Arenborg and all its attendant dramas. The only time she felt truly at home in the Arenborg was when she spent time talking to the queen. She had a bright nature to her, a little like Maple’s but a little less steeped in coyness. Anna figured part of the problem might have been her living arrangements. She knew enough that she had no taste for politics, but moreover, something about the castle just felt off to her. Like sleeping under stone roofs instead of the stars. She felt separated, too distant, almost, from what always gave her comfort. She just couldn’t put her finger on it.

Eventually Maple brought up Ser Jon again, and went on talking about the other renditions of the humbling of Ser Jonathan of which she had heard, and Anna’s mind began to wander. She was perfectly happy to let Maple talk. Maple’s voice was chirpy, but had a smooth consistency to it, and a sweetness, like butter and honey. Anna found herself thinking of the queen again, and the way she liked it when Anna told stories. She felt her lids droop when she remembered the day at the lagoon. She slipped off her boots and tucked her legs up on the plush chair and cast a dreary look at the walls, her eyes lingering on the swaying dance of a candle flame.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” asked Maple. Out of the corner of her eyes, Anna saw the witch cock her head with frowning lips.

“Nothing,” said Anna absently; and realizing that she did not sound convincing, forced herself to return Maple’s eye contact. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

“Well, what is it? You can tell me.”

She started to feel a little guilty for letting her despair be so obvious. It wasn’t something she wanted to foist on Maple, and anyway it was all so contrived. “No, it’s really stupid. I’m just in a bad way at the castle. It’s all my fault, really.”

“Anna, come on. You helped me pay off my debt, the least I can do in return is listen to what’s going on with you.”

Anna shook her head. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” Maple insisted.

She hesitated. “Okay,” she allowed. “But I warned you.” She looked away again. “Sometime last month, the queen and I… got in a bad way. Something happened, I’m not sure what, and now she doesn’t trust me anymore. And I’ve been listening to all these rumors, and the courtiers and the lords and ladies of the court… and it just got me thinking if they’re right, you know? If I’m in over my head. If I’m not cut out to be a knight. But I know I said my vows so I have no choice. And I’m trying, really I am, but I sometimes worry if I’m trying hard enough. And I know that no matter how I frame it to myself, at the end of the day my – my queen still won’t look me in the eyes.” Suddenly she realized she was crying. “Oh, damn it to hell,” she moped, and she wiped the tears away with her sleeve. “I swear I didn’t mean to cry on you. I told you it was stupid, I-”

But she was silenced when Maple was on the chair with her, pulling her into a fierce embrace, arms wrapped tightly around her middle. To her surprise, Anna found herself hugging back.

“I’m sorry for bringing this up to you,” said Anna miserably. “I am, I really am. And for crying – what kind of knight cries?”

“Don’t say that,” said Maple, her voice thick. “Crying just means you’re human. And don’t apologize. I want to help.” She paused. “It’s what friends are for, right?” She nestled her face in the crook of Anna’s neck. Somehow she lost her hat. “No one’s ever called me their friend before,” she said quietly.

It felt like someone dropped her heart from the top of the Queen’s Tower. Suddenly Maple didn’t seem a year older than her. She imagined what it would be like to not have any friends. She gave Maple a little squeeze. “I meant it.”

They sat like that for a short while before Maple pulled away with a sniffle, turning around to lay on Anna, her green head resting on the knight’s shoulder. “The thing I’m looking for belonged to my mom,” she said. “I never knew my parents. Did you know your parents, Anna?”

“No,” said Anna. “But I had a family.”

“Me, too,” said Maple. “I had Grandmama. She would tell me a lot of stories about my mom, about how brave and beautiful and smart she was. Grandmama said she died giving birth to me. Isn’t that strange? My mom was an amazingly talented witch and she died so that I could live. _Me._ ”

“You’re a witch, too,” said Anna softly.

“Yeah, but my mom was a sorceress.”

Anna rubbed Maple’s arm gently. “What about your father?”

“Grandmama didn’t talk about him really. She said he was a goon, and had clay for brains, but that he loved my mom with all his heart. I don’t know what happened to him.” Maple tilted her head back to look up at Anna’s face. “Did you ever hear stories about your parents?”

“No,” said Anna. “I don’t even know what they did. Like as not they were peasant farmers, since I ended up raised in the forest by trolls.”

Maple was silent for a few moments. “I guess you’ve come a long way, huh?” She got up, and turned to face Anna, her green eyes shimmering. “Raised in the forest by trolls, and now look at where you are.”

Anna blushed. “I had help.”

“We all do,” said Maple quietly.

When Anna left Maple’s cottage, the sun was well and up but hidden by clouds. It was still snowing. She went back to the Arenborg. On the way, she passed by a godswife who was beseeching a crowd of people to take up swords and pledge to fight Weselton. Some in the crowd wore necklaces with strange symbols at the end, which they held up earnestly as they muttered silently to themselves.

In the castle courtyard, Anna decided first to return to her solar to see if Martin was about. Failing that, she would just need to attend court without armor. She was passing by the stables in the yard when she was surprised to hear someone call her name.

It was Lord Myles, negotiating the snowdrifts in tall black boots and a thick wrap of burgundy cloak. His head was mostly obscured by a thick fur-lined cowl, but there was no mistaking the color of his clothes – no, nor the golden snake pin that clasped his cloak, small and unostentatious as it was.

“Ser Anna,” he said by way of greeting, when he had neared. “It is good that I found you out here. Where were you this morning?”

“In town, on business,” lied Anna, and blushed against the truth of the matter. “What do you need?”

“I need you to be in our council meetings,” he said with a bite. He clenched a gloved fist and then looked away and sighed. “Forgive me, I’m a little on edge right now. The queen has given leave to effect the reconciliation with Weselton.”

“Truly?” said Anna, horrorstruck. “What… what will happen?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, but the invite has been sent by way of messager falcon. The duke will be in town when the moon is three-quarters waxed to partake of a peace-keeping feast. I’d spit, but it’s too damn cold to spit. If you were in the council today, you might have helped persuade the queen…”

“The queen has dismissed me from her personal guard,” said Anna. “I’m sure I couldn’t do anything.”

Lord Myles frowned. “The queen is a stubborn woman. All Arendelles are stubborn. Still, your voice would have made us two, against Ysmir’s one and that wheedling Hugoss’s one-half.”

“What of Ser Tore?”

“Ser Tore cares not one way or another. You have seen him – he is little impressed with meetings in general. I’ve never heard him express an opinion that wasn’t some species of ‘Do as thou wilt, but I shall fight if you need it.’ That’s knights for you, I suppose. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Ser Anna.” She had narrowed her eyes at him. “You know what I mean. A country needs two kinds of men: Those like Ser Tore, and those like me. Instead we have women like Lady Ysmir and – well.”

She kept her eyes narrow. “I am a woman too, my lord.”

He snorted. “You certainly look like a woman, I’ll grant you that. Forgive my nastiness. I only advise you to be on your guard, especially when it comes to Lady Ysmir and all the rest of those in the Corel family. Never trust a Wingsman, or a Wingswoman as the case may be, that’s the Myles motto. Well, one of the Myles mottos, anyway. It’s too cold, I’ll return to the keep now. Just be on your guard.” With that, he stomped off through the snow.

“Wait, Lord Myles,” she called to him. He turned back. “Yes?”

“Have you seen my squire? Martin, he’s called.”

“Is he not playing with the other squires? They’ve been at some game since you brutalized that stableboy. By the by, that was ill done, if I may speak frankly.”

“You said as much yesterday and the day before, my lord.”

“I’ll say as much again tomorrow, if you want me to. The squires would be at the armory.” He turned again and left. She watched him go, sloshing through the snow and disappearing through a thick wooden door into the blue-white stones of the keep.

She went to the armory, where she asked the master-at-arms if he had seen her squire. “Aye, he and the squires are in the shed out back, at some kind of mischief.” She thanked him and continued to the shed behind the armory. It was a wide, low shed, an old building with a roof of wooden crossbars and walls of gray stone – not really a shed, but that’s what people called it. Inside, it was warm, and crowded – it seemed every castle squire was sitting on the straw-covered floor of the shed, old and young alike, eyes all trained on Martin, whose eyes were wild as he bashed one fist into his other hand’s palm.

“Jumped right at him!” said Martin. “She took him down, him a lordling, and her but a little forest girl. And that’s when I knew I was beholding the stuff of legends.”

Little John stood up, lute in his hands, and began to sing:

_The little lost lordling was lording about,_

_(His ear was in dire good need of a clout),_

_Then Ser Anna the Younger took up a paddle,_

_And the young lordling’s cries made a terrible rattle!_

The squires howled and hooted and clapped and stomped their feet, and Martin looked pleased. Bemused, Anna cleared her throat.

“Ah-hem.” The laughing stopped at once, and they all turned to look at her. It was a herd of bashful sheep, though some were smiling broadly. Martin was looking quite abashed, his face terribly pale. Anna had to suppress a smile. “Martin, I have need of your service. Would you…?”

“Yes, m’lady!” he nearly shouted, and jumped forward, sidling through the sitting squires. Anna left the shed and its dumbfounded looks and went back into the snow. Martin trailed behind.

When she and her squire were some distance from the shed, she laughed loudly. He still looked pale. “Martin,” she said with a barely-hid smile, “what was all that about?”

“Well, I…” He struggled for words. “After you pounded that stupid Pat’s nose, there were some rumors about you that I… I just didn’t care for. So I had to tell them about all the other valorous things you did.”

“Valorous? You mean stupid.”

“No, m’lady. Important.” He looked her in the eyes. “A knight’s not a knight ‘cos she has a title or a fancy sword. A knight’s a knight ‘cos of what she believes in, what’s in her heart.”

Anna’s smile faltered. He wasn’t much younger than her, after all. She believed the same thing. Hearing it from Martin, though, and knowing about what she had just done, now it sounded a little naïve. “I attacked that stableboy in anger. It was an… ill thing,” she said hesitantly.

“No, m’lady,” he insisted. “Pat’s the worst. He deserved it.”

“Maybe he did,” admitted Anna. “But my reasons for hitting him were bad.”

He didn’t respond, instead studying his feet. She patted him on the shoulder. “Martin. How long were you at this? I didn’t see you last night.”

“Oh. M’lady. I’m sorry. Last night I met with the other squires to… to tell them they were wrong about you. And then this morning I stirred early, to… M’lady, I’m sorry. I forgot my duties.” He bowed his head in shame.

_You wouldn’t be the first one who did._ “Think nothing of it. But for right now, I _do_ need to don my armor. I would like your help.” She tried to smile comradely.

He looked up and nodded firmly, eyes wide. “Yes! Of course!”

They went to Anna’s solar, where Martin helped her put on her armor. The whole while, Anna was thinking about Martin’s “mischief,” as the master-at-arms described it. She had expected – well, she didn’t know what she had expected, but she knew she hadn’t expected _that._ And the townsfolk last night… Stories, legends always make people out to be better than they really are. There was no sense letting it all go to her head.

Court that day was a dull affair, except for the discussion of the reconciliation with Weselton. Preparations were under way for the “feast to keep the peace,” and Ysmir looked a deal happy at this, smiling like a cat with a big fish. She spent some time that day talking at the council about the good that the feast would do. The whole time, Lord Myles shot Anna fervent, knowing looks.

That evening, Anna supped in the dining hall, alone at first until Ser Puck joined her. The willowy knight with his billowy white coif of hair doffed his jaunty cap and bowed low before he sat. He never wore much armor, nor carried steel longer than six inches, but he always had a trusty golden bow at hand, and a slim quiver filled with arrows.

“Ah, m’lady!” he said as he sat. “My squire, Little John, has been telling me much about you.” Little John was anything but little, and in fact older than Ser Puck – but had not much in the way of skill at arms, and, it must be said, probably no chivalry, although he was a decent man. “Specifically, stories of valorous deeds done before you earned your spurs.”

“My squire’s been spreading tales,” said Anna with a weary smile.

Ser Puck returned it with one of his own. “So he has, so he has. Have you chanced to meet the prisoner, by the way? The so-called castaway.”

“No, I have not. Why?”

“Me either.” His eyes darted left and right, and he leaned closer. “The queen and Lord Myles are the only ones who have seen him. The turnkeys won’t let myself nor anyone else into the cells.”

Anna frowned. “Is that strange?”

The corners of Ser Puck’s mouth tugged upwards. “More than passing strange, I’d say. When I asked them why, they told me it was ‘Lady Ysmir’s orders.’ But the queen and Lord Myles saw him that one time, and she sees him all the time. I asked Lady Ysmir if I might get a pass too, but she said she had no idea what I was talking about. Passing strange, indeed.”

After supper, Anna went down to the dungeons to see the turnkey. He was a portly man with a stubbly gray of a beard, and was leaning against the door to the dungeons when Anna arrived. The reek of mildew and unwashed men was strong down here. The dungeon master was sitting at his desk, muttering over some charts on parchments.

“M’lady,” said the turnkey.

“Might I see the prisoner?”

“No, m’lady, beggin’ yer pardon.” He inclined his head.

“May I ask why not?”

“Lady Ysmir’s orders.”

“I am the Lady Protector.”

“Sorry, m’lady. We in the dungeons take our cue from the Spymaster. Beggin’ yer pardon.”

Anna left it at that. According to Ser Puck, it was quite strange that people should be barred from seeing prisoners, and stranger still that that number should include members of the council. Anna considered asking Lady Ysmir, but she had denied it when Ser Puck asked, after all; and of course, Anna had no desire whatsoever to speak with the woman.

A few days later, she mentioned it to Lord Myles, as well as what Ser Puck observed.

“He said he saw me meet the prisoner?” asked Lord Myles.

“That’s what he said. What do you make of him?”

“Ser Puck?”

“The prisoner.”

“Ah,” said Lord Myles. “He said… a lot of things that I’m not sure what to make of. I’d like to talk with him more, but, as you know, the Royal Spymaster keeps him under thumb. It’s all a bit suspicious to me. Why do you suppose she doesn’t want people talking to him?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

Anna frowned. “You don’t suppose they’re plotting? Word around the castle is she visits him often.”

Lord Myles shrugged. “All I know is that I don’t trust her Ladyship any further than I can throw her.” _Me neither,_ thought Anna.

As the next few weeks passed, the hustle and bustle of preparations was the talk of the castle. Lady Ysmir was constantly busy making arrangements, and all in the castle could swear they saw her wherever they went, organizing the watch, the food, the servants, the events, and so on. It was to be quite a welcoming affair, and one that Lady Ysmir, apparently, worked tirelessly on. The more Anna saw her at it, the more she thought of Lord Myles’s words, and the more she grew to mistrust the Royal Spymaster. Finally the black stoat could be seen above the waves, flapping in the breeze, and the ships came into harbor. The Weseltonian envoy was here.

The duke had an entourage of some two-score people, some of them his courtiers but a good deal of them his knights and personal sellswords. The duke was a curious individual for a number of reasons, so far as Anna could see: He was a short man with a plain face, a broad ugly nose and wide jaws and very round Aztec-style spectacles. The duke had a thick gray mustache and a rim of gray hair, and seemed to constantly scowl – well, that last part she had heard. For the nonce he looked positively radiant, beaming at all, shaking hands energetically.

The other reason she thought him odd was the company he chose to keep. Weselton was known as a merchant’s dukedom, a place where merchantry was held in high regard. The Hugosses came from Weselton originally, some hundreds of years back, until a run-in with the duke forced them to pull up roots. They settled in Crystalwater and exchanged their wealth for Hugoss Hill and the Grand Merchant’s Manor. It was little enough time before they were richer than ever, and thanked Weselton for the fuss.

As a result of the attainding of the Hugosses, however, and the nature of Weselton, the duke possessed a lot of direct property in his dukedom, and made quite a trade off of middle-manning between Arendelle and the Svithron states. As the biggest dukedom of the former Svithron Empire, Weselton’s links with the east were significant as well. Wealth flowed through Weselton, it was said, but never came from it. Situated between Arendelle and the Permic hordes, they should have been quite content with what they had – or so said Arendellit patriots, with no fewer bitter overtones now than sixteen years ago, when the duke invaded Arendelle to steal the Ice-Blood’s throne.

But those days were done and passed. At least, that was the line that was being thrown about. Trade would flow once more. The indemnities were done, the shame of the defeat of Weselton but a phantom, and now the two countries could come together to partake in the joint joy of trading. No lasting harm, no lasting foul. And as a token of his goodwill, the duke even promised to apologize for the assassination attempt. It was truly the best outcome, Lady Ysmir insisted.

The entourage, though. Ser Anna stood at attention as they passed. It was a curious thing. She saw a few knights with painted shields, but only a handful. The rest were sellswords, armored however they liked it but all wearing the red-and-black of Weselton. They were sellswords, all right, but not pledged to the duke out of fealty, but because he could pay them for it. The duke had few personal vassals, it seemed, but enough personal wealth that it didn’t matter. Why have a sworn sword when you can have a bag of gold?

Anna turned up her nose at them. _You_ may sell your sword for gold, but _I_ am in Her Majesty’s service. I am a loyal and leal subject. I am hers, and I would never, ever turn against her, and neither would her vassals.

_They did, before._ The Linnaeuses of Eastgreen. Traitors in the last war. They had no representatives here, but the thought sent a crawling up her spine. She fingered Autumn’s hilt uneasily.

The feast was to be held in the great hall, which sat beneath the throne room on the ground floor. It was long and tall and carved of immaculate blue-white stone. The walls were lined with long-burning iron hearths and magnificent tapestries depicting ice and snow and the scenic vistas of Arendelle’s vast countrysides. Anna’s favorite was one that showed the town of Eastport, which sat astride a bay. It looked peaceful and small, little cottages spaced apart by fields of grass, the bay unbusy except for a single carrack that Anna could swear she could see _swaying_ in the breeze. Sometimes Anna imagined what it would be like to live in a small town like that, in a little cottage by the sea by the grass, with the forest always close by.

Anna missed the forest.

As the duke’s men filed into the hall, Lady Ysmir caught Anna’s arm. She looked radiant, and actually rather lovely in an elegant dressing gown folded across with alternating blue and black.

“Oh, Ser Anna, isn’t this grand?” she said.

“It’s quite an event. The duke’s men are… numerous.”

“He insisted on them. A small price to pay for peace. I can’t tell you what a weight is lifted off my heart to see this day come.”

Anna gave her a look. “Do you really think this will mean peace?”

“To be sure. It’s been said that you can get all that you want if you bare your teeth and speak sweetly. Well, I’ll be sure to speak sweetly, and Ser Tore is sure to remind the duke we are not to be trifled with. If he does not see the wisdom in peace, then he is a fool and nothing to worry about.”

_I don’t know about that. Foolish people can be dangerous, too,_ thought Anna.

The great hall ended up crowded end to end with people, the entrances and exits attended by the silver-armored blue-topped men-at-arms. Long trestle tables with benches were set up for most of the knights and courtiers, of whom the duke’s men counted a strong number, and at the far end of the hall was a great raised dais beneath a large blue banner that bore the six-pointed snowflake, stark and dominant in the hall. On the dais, the finest table was placed. At the head sat Queen Elsa, of course, and at her right and left hands were Lady Ysmir and Ser Tore. All around went the other councillors, even Sissil Morey the godswife, already drunk; but not Ser Wendel Bigsby, whom Anna suspected was off captaining the watch at the Spymaster’s instruction. At Lady Ysmir’s right was the duke, and at his right was his most trusted man – a dour-looking fellow with a black mustache and too much eyebrows. Anna sat at the other side, far from the queen but next to Lord Myles and Master Penrose.

The duke was pleased, the Lady Ysmir obsequious, and the queen still as a statue. She said little, only smiling at the duke and offering her humble welcomes and gracious thanks. She laughed at his jokes, which were numerous and bad, and offered him the best wines from the cellars. The feast itself consisted of fare that Lord Hugoss approved of, though that didn’t say much, and he sweated through his meal somehow managing not to look too nervous. Ser Tore looked bored and sour. He was dressed in armor and had his sword across his back. He only had one cup of wine, at the duke’s insistence. A servant poured him a “special” cup.

Master Penrose didn’t look anything but ecstatic. The same serving girl came to him again and again, refilling his wine as he downed it, a petite girl with a body like an eastern vase and a billowy fluff of blonde hair. She had a tiny nose.

Lord Myles fidgeted a little and drank a lot. At one point during the feast, some clowns came out and began capering before the dais, to the raucous enjoyment of many. During the japery, he turned to Anna and spoke over his goblet:

“You should be seated next to the queen,” he said.

Anna frowned in response. “My lord?”

“Lady Ysmir is having a grand time.” She was: She was laughing loudly and describing the clowns to the duke. He agreed that they were quite a jestful lot.

“I don’t understand.”

He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Don’t you find it queer that the good lady is enjoying herself so much in the company of those she claims to hate and mistrust?”

“She’s putting on a good show,” said Anna tentatively. “She must needs ingratiate herself before the duke to make us seem contrite.”

“Ingratiate. Hunh.” He finished his drink and his eyes scanned the room. Anna found herself following his gaze. There were blues and whites of Arendelle, and reds and blacks of Weselton here and there around. It seemed all the courtiers of the Arenborg were in attendance, and spaced around were the helmeted guardsmen. Weselton’s knights and sellswords were in a mass and jeering at the clowns. Anna saw one put his hand over his cup when a servant came by, and he shook his head solemnly.

“They all seem to be enjoying themselves.”

“That’s why he turned down that wine, is it?” Just then, a loud rapping occurred, and Lady Ysmir and the duke both stood up, and slowly the hall fell silent.

The duke was a good deal shorter than Lady Ysmir, so he had to stand on his chair to obtain the illusion of height. Lady Ysmir spoke first: “His Eminence, the duke, would like to make a short statement.” The red-and-blacks clapped.

In a voice like snapping twigs, the duke announced how very pleased he was to be in Arendelle and to be facilitating a reconciliation at long last. He said he looked forward to many years of cooperation with Arendelle, and was eager to put the past to rest. He ended it there, and there was some scattered clapping and cheering. The red-and-blacks, of course, stomped their feet in approval. Anna knew why the rest weren’t so pleased: The duke was supposed to apologize for the assassination attempt, at least acknowledge it, and humbly beg forgiveness. But maybe that would come later. Lord Myles scowled.

“Sydney, who is that?” asked Anna the fifth time the blonde servant came to Master Penrose. He looked put-off at the question, but a mischievous gleam in his eyes betrayed him before he answered.

“A serving girl,” he answered with a too-large grin.

“Well, what’s her name?”

“Olivia.”

Anna tried to smile conspiratorially, as if she were party to some juicy secret. “Is she the one your heart is ‘sworn to?’”

Master Penrose laughed and blushed and downed another cup of wine. Olivia refilled it and ran her fingers along his shoulder. “Yeah,” Master Penrose admitted, his face as red as his hair. He looked so uncharacteristically radiant that Anna wondered if he had glamored up a happy look just for the occasion.

Anna felt a pang as she realized that, well, she was _just_ a serving girl after all. She felt a little sorry for her, and him, for that matter. She wondered how much Master Penrose cared about that. “What do you like about her?”

“What’s not to like? Oh, Anna, you should see her when she paints. It’s… there are no words.” He sighed. “Being in love. It’s nothing like how the poets describe it.”

She’d have to take his word for that. She wondered if part of his good mood was due to all that wine he was drinking. She decided she might enjoy the event more if she had a bit of wine, so she held out her cup to a passing servant. She went to drink it when Lord Myles’s hand found her arm.

“Stop. Don’t.”

She looked at him quizzically, a twinge of annoyance in her chest. “ _What_ , my lord?”

His response was a hard stare. “Trust me. I want you to keep your wits about you, tonight. I mislike this feast.” He looked panicked and slightly worried. He leaned in and spoke in a quick whisper. “Do you remember when you asked me about the prisoner?”

“Yes, my lord, but what – ”

“I believe I understand why Lady Ysmir wanted nobody to see him. It’s so obvious now, but – listen very carefully. You must get to the dungeons and release him. Can you do this?”

She nodded dumbly. “Yes… but… but what is – ”

“No time. The singer is coming in next. There’ll be a dance, and then Lady Ysmir will bring out the Wingwine. I know the duke will mean to dance with you. I’ll create a distraction, this will be your only chance. Get to the dungeons, find the castaway, and bring him here _on the double._ Don’t let anyone stop – ” He snapped away, and swiveled his head in the direction of the rest of the table. Anna looked away as well, and for a brief moment she thought she saw Lady Ysmir staring at her.

The singer came in, a broad-shouldered man with a fine shock of hair who called himself “Gaston the Great.” He strummed a lute and began to sing, in a fine, deep baritone, about the maiden called Snow White.

The cue was clear. Some courtiers got up to dance, though the knights and sell-swords remained sitting. The duke stood up and looked around eagerly.

Anna felt a nudge in the side of her greave, and then Lord Myles was on his feet, goblet raised high. He blurted, “Snow White was no maiden, ser, I know that for a fact! Her bedsheets were white when I bedded her, as white as her skin, front and back!”

The challenge was an old one, though it usually went from one singer to another. Without an instrument, Lord Myles would not succeed the challenge. Gaston should have seen it to waste his time, but – there was a glint in his eyes. He strummed his lute and rejoined, “Well, my lord, you must not know, but of maidens there are kinds three: Maidens to love, maidens to lust, and maidens who’re bedded by thee!”

The red-and-blacks were now roaring with laughter, evidently not expecting such a risque exchange at such a formal affair. Anna saw the queen was smiling now, and even the duke seemed somewhat amused – but Lady Ysmir looked absolutely livid, and was staring sharply at Lord Myles.

At Lord Myles, yes. Anna had to get away. She didn’t know why she was doing it, but something about the way Lord Myles spoke just now gave her a chill. Leaning low, she pushed her chair away as Lord Myles walked around the table to stand opposite the singer, and they continued their ribald singing. The lord was truly an atrocious singer, but he was nigh a clown himself, jumping and waving his arms as he said the words. Anna got up and slinked out the back entrance, weaving between a pair of servants entering with flagons of wine.

Down the halls she went to the dungeon entrance. It was quiet. Most everyone was in the great hall for the feast, or… well, the squires would not be in attendance, nor much of the servants and men-at-arms, all the castle-folk not afforded the privilege of feasting. They’d be eating in one of the hearth halls. That was where Martin was, Anna knew. Even so, the guardsmen were on-duty.

Sure enough, a turnkey sat squat in front of the dungeon door. “Let me through,” she ordered him.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Sorry, m’lady. No one is to see the prisoner. Lady Ysmir’s orders.”

“I misspoke. I meant to say, ‘Let me through, now.’” She punctuated her point by drawing her sword. The steel scraped against leather with a satisfying sound.

The turnkey’s knees turned to gelatin. Quickly, he turned and unlocked the door, and pulled it open with a loud, groaning screech. She took the keys from him and went through.

The cells were dark, only a few torches along the walls for light. Each cell was separated by stone, and entered by heavy wooden doors with barred windows. Most of the cells were empty, except for one at the end of the hall where, to her surprise, was a Royal Guardsman, standing at attention outside a cell door. “M’lady,” the guardsman greeted her.

She stared at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Ser Tazmus’s orders, m’lady. Lady Ysmir wanted a man on the prisoner at all times, for the duration of the feast.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Just followin’ orders.” He seemed to notice her sword for the first time. He moved his other hand to grip his halberd. “M’lady. What do you want?”

“I’m here to retrieve the prisoner. Lord Myles’s orders.”

Anna couldn’t tell what reaction that elicited through the man’s helm. “M’lady… I can’t let you take him.”

She leveled her sword. “You can’t _stop me._ This is an urgent matter. Now stand aside.”

He leveled his halberd and hissed through his helmet. “ _Traitor._ Lady Ysmir spoke t’ me – _me personally_ – and warned about this. Well, I won’t – ”

She didn’t let him finish. Her sword tip stood at the base of his neck, between gorget, helm, and chestplate. He backed up to the wall, halberd held out to the side pointlessly.

“You let me inside of your halberd. Now you’re dead.” She grabbed his halberd with her off hand and threw it to the ground, and then withdrew her sword. “Go. I am your captain, and don’t you forget it.”

He stepped away, cautious, hands held up. “Y-Yes, m’lady,” and turned and ran.

Anna sheathed Autumn and went to the cell door and unlocked it with the keys. It opened with a screeching rusty sound, and the dim light of the hall filled up the cell. There he was – the castaway, his rags even filthier now than before, his beard an awful tangle the color of dried blood. He looked up as she entered, and smiled wide with teeth brown, beaten, holed and chipped. “Ah. My hero.”

“Come with me,” she told him. “Lord Myles has ordered me to secure your escape.”

“And you did it? Just like that?” The castaway blinked. He stood up on shaky legs, and lurched out into the light. He squinted. “What if Lord Myles is betraying your queen, huh? And he just wanted you out of the great hall to do her off without her Lord Protector nearby? Eh? Eh?”

Anna’s eyes went wide. She swallowed hard. “I… I… He… He told me to trust him.”

“Yeah, he did. Just as well, you made the right choice. If you were more skeptical, your queen would be dead by now. I know. Oh, yes, I know. Just goes to show you can’t trust anything, not even skepticism.” He squinted at her now. “Yeah, you’re well-armored. Sword looks sharp. Arm looks strong. Face looks young. You’re what – fifteen? I’m eighteen myself. Small world, eh?”

“Eighteen?” He didn’t look a day under fifty.

“Yeah. The years have been hard on me.” He laughed wheezily, and then coughed. “Agh. Yes. Yes. You’re probably wondering what Lord Myles wants with me. Well, I’ll tell you. I know the Lady’s plans here tonight, oh, yes, I know. This whole Weselton affair is nothing but a crock to kill your queen.”

Anna’s heart might have stopped. “What?” she said in a small voice, terror overwhelming her.

“Yes. You’ll see. We need to get moving. But – the good old Lady Ysmir has been moving the pieces into place these past few months. Lord Myles pointed out that ever since your incident with the queen, she’s been growing bolder. Denying even the possibility of an assassination, asking for command of the guard. Bolder. Not subtler. Lord Myles has suspected. When I turned up, he knew for sure.” He grabbed her forearm. “Enough chat. We must go.”

They left the dungeon quickly and pattered up the steps to the great hall. The castaway’s steps were surprisingly nimble and strong, though he looked a weakling, malnourished and sick.

They entered the great hall and found that the dancing was nearing its end. The singer bowed, and left, and people milled back to their seats. Lord Hugoss saw her come in and walked over, dabbing his forehead.

“There you are! The duke wanted a dance with you. Where were you…” He trailed off as he noticed the castaway. “Who is this?”

“A castaway, my lord,” said the castaway. “More recently, a prisoner.”

Lord Hugoss’s eyes widened as they went between Anna and the castaway. “Wait… Anna… you…” He swiveled his head left and right. “Hold on a moment. Where are the guards?”

Anna looked around the great hall. All was as it was, except the royal guardsmen were gone. The duke proposed a toast, a drink to Ser Tore’s health, an acknowledgement that bygones be bygones. He poured for Ser Tore and the Marshal poured for him. They both drank. “Peace in our time!” Lady Ysmir declared.

Then there was a clatter, and Ser Tore’s cup rolled on the floor. “Y… Your Grace…” he uttered, and then collapsed to the ground. The duke smiled wide, and Lady Ysmir gasped, her face pallid and horrified.

The front doors to the hall burst open. Ten men in the white-enameled platemail of the Royal Guard, equipped all with swords and axes, marched in, and all the men in the reds-and-blacks stood up suddenly, drawing knives from hidden pockets on their persons. A commotion, a cry – screaming. The courtiers were up and backing away to the walls. Queen Elsa stood, her eyes hard. “What is the meaning of this?”

The duke hobbled over to the reds-and-blacks. He stood up on a trestle table, a wine goblet held high in his hands. “A toast, to such wonderful hosts!” he shouted. The corners of his eyes crinkled up. “I believe I owe you all an apology. I promised to apologize, so I will. For the assassination attempt. I’m sorry that my men were late, outchased by a storm that robbed me of the vengeance which should have been mine. I’m sorry that they were caught, so it had to come to this. But I’ve been called old and done, and done and old I am. If this is my last act on this earth, let it be writ as such: An old man dies, and the Kingdom of Arendelle crumbles into nothing.” He pointed a shaking index finger at Queen Elsa. “Kill her!”

The men in platemail moved forward, and so did the reds-and-blacks. “They’re in disguise,” marveled Lord Hugoss. “But where are the… the _real_ guardsmen?”

“My lord,” said the castaway, his voice low and dangerous, lacking suddenly all trace of age or weakness, strong and authoritative. He spoke fast. “It must be you. _Run_. Find Ser Tazmus. He’s been tricked. He’ll be on the battlements, confused by the changing of the guard – this is Lady Ysmir’s doing.”

Lord Hugoss looked at him warily, and then at Anna. “Do it,” said Anna. “Please, hurry. I’ll hold them off while I can.”

He hesitated for a moment, before he broke into a sprint, moving as quickly as he could through the back door. The castaway grabbed her hand. “Strength to your arm, Ser Anna,” he said, and squeezed.

She moved forward so she stood between the dais and the duke’s men, thirty in all. _The Giant held the passes of the Up-And-Downs against fifty times his number._ She was no giant. She was small. But if she had to die, she would die defending her queen. _This is my chance. I will prove myself to my queen, even if I must die to do it._

She threw her cloak over her shoulders to free her arms for combat. She put her shield on her left arm and drew Autumn with her right. And so she stood, before the dais and the queen and the banner of Arendelle.

“You go no further,” she warned them.

The duke noticed her with a frown. “You… Weren’t… You weren’t thirsty tonight?” He stomped his foot on the trestle table so that the cups and plates rattled. “No matter. No matter. You are a child, that is all. No more than a little girl. Ser Tore, yes – _he_ was a threat, that blue sword of his – _he_ had to be poisoned. He could… but not you. Just a little girl. No more.”

_Stall him._ “I defeated Ser Tore in single combat,” she said.

“I saw. I was there. It was a trick, a fluke. No cause to worry…”

“Your Grace,” said one of his men, the man with the dark looks and black mustache. “Look at the size of her. I will crush her like a bug.”

The duke said nothing. The man jumped forward. He was a big one – but not as big as the giant. His knife hand met the edge of her shield. He dropped the knife, and she dropped her sword on his shoulder. He fell to his knees, and she put her sword through his neck. He fell to the rest of him. Autumn shimmered hungrily.

After that, they all came at her like a wave, angry and crying for battle. She raised shield and sword, and lost herself to the fight.

“Numbers win military battles, yes, Ander is technically right,” said Astrid. “Most of the time, it’s numbers all the way down. But it’s an easy mistake for scholars to make to say that translates to combat.”

“Erm… what?” said Anna.

“Well, say I asked you to fight twenty children. How would you do it?”

“Children?” repeated Anna. “I couldn’t do that.”

Astrid huffed impatiently. “Okay, fine, say… twenty… evil… monsters, who are as short and as strong as children. Young children, we’ll say. Not as strong as you is the point, by a wide, wide margin. How would you do it?”

Anna screwed up her face in concentration. “Um. Couldn’t I just spin in a big circle and slash them all?”

Astrid laughed. “No, gods. Be serious, Anna. This is important.”

“I’d try to fight them one-on-one, if I could.”

“But say you couldn’t. They have you surrounded.”

She thought about it. Then, “I’d use their numbers against them. They can’t fight me all at the same time. Twenty of them couldn’t fit around me unless they started slashing each other.”

“Exactly. Unless they get the flank on you, it’s difficult to fight an experienced fighter with more than four-on-one, especially if you’re not as skilled or as well-equipped. And even then, it’s hard to manage unless you know what you’re doing. Knights are trained for melees, but most men often care only about glory, and twenty-on-one is too little glory spread too thinly. If all those twenty little, erm, monsters are lusting for the fight, jumping over each other to get involved, instead of waiting, seeking openings, and striking at your back?” She grinned. “Makes your job easier.”

She fought. That was all she could do. Behind her was her queen, alone and vulnerable. Ahead of her were the queen’s enemies, who were Anna’s enemies, whom Anna swore to always fight. And so she did.

_If I die, I’m taking all of you with me. Not one of you will touch my queen._

“COME ON!” she roared at them. “You think you can take me? I’m just a little girl and I’m stronger than all of you! Come get a piece of me!”

She spun and slashed and spun and moved. She did not tire, though the fight went on, and on. Was it just her, or was it taking hours? No, don’t be silly.

A huge bang. Guardsmen in the door, swarming through. _More enemies,_ she thought. Autumn agreed hungrily. _I want to taste their blood, Anna. Please. I see them, I_ see _them, my goodness, oh, me, they look so tasty. Please, Anna. Just move me at them. Just…_

The uproar was deafening. “STOP!” came a voice. She stabbed someone in the chest and cut off someone’s arm. Fire was in her. The ring throbbed and pulsed. An axe head bounced off her shoulder. “What the f-” She cut his face. She blocked a sword. It screeched against her shield. Everything was burning, the fire and the fury and the energy overwhelming her. She was _feeling_ , really, truly feeling – jealousy, hate, anger, sorrow, envy, pride, love. They’re _there,_ and so many colors. Pain. The sharp pain in her stomach. She saw the longsword sticking out of her, and the man who held it, the whites of his eyes smothering pupils. Fear. She slashed him open. He fell first, and then she fell too. All the fire went away. “ANNA!” someone screamed, and then blackness.

 

* * *

 

She awoke to see the cold light of a winter’s day peering in through shuttered windows. The room was cold and clammy though a low fire was burning and the coldness was little helped by the thin white sheets of the bed she was in. She moaned.

A figure to her right became a person. “Anna?” squeaked Maple. “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” she heard her own voice. She grimaced. “In pain.” A flash jolted her. “The queen! The assassins! Is the queen all ri – ”

A glass bottle was suddenly on her mouth, and the thick, unguent red liquid was pouring down her throat. She held her breath and coughed when it all went down.

“The queen is safe,” said Maple. And then suddenly the witch was on her, crying and holding her tightly. Her voice was muffled as she spoke into her shirt – a thin, unlaced white tunic. “Oh, Anna. When Martin came to get me… he said… they all said you were going to… Oh, Anna. I’m so glad you’re alive.”

Anna felt her own hands go to Maple’s back. She rubbed. “What happened?” she asked, and Maple shuddered with a sob. Anna realized, with sudden discomfort, that Maple’s face was nestled between her breasts. And now her face was burning. But she couldn’t push Maple away… that would… that would be cruel.

Thankfully, Maple pulled away on her own, still sniffling. “You had a… someone stabbed you through the stomach.” She crouched over the sheets and pulled them back, and lifted up Anna’s shirt for her to see. She craned her head, and – there was a faint, red scar on her stomach, an apparent cross-section of an oncoming longsword.

Anna blinked. “What? It’s healed. How… how long have I been out?”

Maple sniffled and wiped her eyes. The tears made them glisten like emeralds in sunlight. Her green hair was a disheveled mess, and she wore no hat. “About four weeks.”

“ _Four_ weeks?” repeated Anna incredulously. Maple stroked Anna’s scar gently. Anna looked at it again. “How… I should be…”

“Dead,” whispered Maple. “That’s what they said, too. But Grandmama has some recipes… Martin came and got me and I brought everything I could.” She pulled Anna’s tunic back down over the scar carefully, and brought the sheets back up, tucking them around Anna with a gentle touch.

“Magic,” said Anna distantly.

“Magic.”

Anna looked at Maple. “You are amazing.”

Maple squeaked and turned away, eyes watering again. “Oh, please. I’m just a street witch. These potions are Grandmama’s doing.”

Anna reached out a hand and touched Maple’s forearm. She turned back and looked. “I’m serious,” said Anna. “You saved my life.”

“I didn’t want you to die.”

Anna smiled up at her. “I’m lucky to have a friend like you.”

Maple tried to smile, too. “And I… I’m lucky to have a friend…” she trailed off.

“It’s no more than you deserve.”

And Maple hugged her again.

After she had calmed down, and was sufficiently reassured that Anna wasn’t liable to drop dead again, Maple left, and word put around the castle that the Hero, Ser Anna was awake, and alive, and not dead in any real sense. She was in the infirmary, which were adjacent Master Penrose’s quarters, and though the young wizard had allowed Maple to come and go, he was growing rather sore of the thence countless comers and goers that started when it was known that Anna was awake.

“ _She_ saved your life. I’m still not sure how. I’ve never seen anything like those potions she used. The rest of these knights and courtiers and… pfah!”

Ser Puck knelt at the bedside. “Ser Anna. I am honored.” He put his hand on his chest. “If you should ever need aid of my bow, I am your man.”

Ser Tazmus and Flynt came at the same time. “Ser Anna,” said Ser Tazmus, and he dropped to one knee. “It was my fault. All of it. Lady Ysmir issued an order to change the guard, but I… I should have been more vigilant. She swapped my men out with hers.”

Maybe Anna should have scolded him, but she found she lacked the energy for it. “We should all have been more vigilant.”

Flynt lingered after Ser Tazmus left. He gave Anna a sour look which, combined with his default morose expression, made him look like the perfect visage of sorrow. “Tazzie’s a mook. You should have knocked him upside the head for that one.”

“What good would that serve?” she asked, annoyed.

“The greatest good.” And he left.

Martin came with a great number of squires. “The hero!” they shouted in unison. “All praise Ser Anna!”

“OUT!” yelled Master Penrose. “Gods! How’s a man supposed to get any work done? I tell you!”

“You did well, Martin,” Anna told him. “Maple told me what you did.”

“I only did my duty, m’lady,” he said.

“Martin,” she said. “Call me Anna.”

He actually smiled. “No, m’lady. I don’t think I will.” And he bowed low and left.

Lord Hugoss came, flanked by his men. “You’re alive,” he observed, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief. Something about the way he said it made the small hairs on Anna’s neck stand up. He blinked at her, offered his condolences, and left.

At last, Lord Myles came, and two others Anna did not expect. The first was a rather young man with bright red hair and close-cropped red sideburns, his face a handsome chisel, his smile easy and sincere and filled with white teeth like rectangles. She did not recognize him. The second…

Anna’s heart stilled. _My…_ It was Queen Elsa. And she was looking at Anna. In the eyes. _My queen._

Lord Myles went to the bedside. He took a seat and breathed out with a great sigh. “Ser Anna. By the gods. It’s good to see you breathing.”

“You gave us quite a scare,” said the man with red sideburns. “We were all pulling for you.”

“What happened?” asked Anna, this time looking to get an answer. She peered at the man with the sideburns. “And who are you, my lord? I don’t recognize you.”

He laughed. “I was a castaway, then a prisoner, and now I’m a diplomat.”

Anna stared. He looked nothing at all like the tattered man she fished out of the dungeons.

Queen Elsa spoke. “His Grace helped us in our time of need.” She was quiet.

“It’s so,” said Lord Myles. “Without him, as like as not we’d all be dead.”

“What’s done is done,” said the sideburned man with a wave. “All that matters is that the Lady Protector was able to pick up our slack and keep thirty men at bay, long enough to save the queen.” He smiled.

Anna blinked. “I’m sorry… I still don’t understand what happened.”

“You wouldn’t,” said Lord Myles with a scowl. “Lady Ysmir covered her tracks oh-so-well. And her act was oh-so-convincing.”

“I do love a good act,” commented the sideburned man.

Lord Myles continued, “Lady Ysmir was part of a Weselton plot to overthrow the crown. The entire reconciliation feast was a farce, something she staged to frame the assassination.”

“But how can that be?” asked Anna, stupefied.

“Come now, Anna, it’s really quite obvious. She took the captainship of the guard from you, then manipulated Ser Tazmus to serve her own ends. She masterminded the flow of events and the changing of the guard to ensure that nobody could protect the queen except you and Ser Tore. And it was planned that Ser Tore would be poisoned. I had my suspicions that she’d poison you as well, though like as not she didn’t consider you a threat – nor, I suppose, did she expect you to attempt to defend the queen, given the difficulties of the position these past months.”

“Their first big mistake,” said the sideburned man.

Lord Myles sighed heavily. “I had my suspicions, I admit, but the lady’s resources were too much to openly oppose. However, the prisoner was the wrench in the plan. I needed to wait, bide my time. And then that is why I sent you to fetch His Grace from the dungeons, because I knew that you would be able to dispatch whatever defenses Lady Ysmir put around him. He revealed his true identity to the duke while you were being attacked. That forced the duke to call it off and surrender, but not before one of his brutes ran you through.”

Anna frowned. “His true identity, my lord?”

“Yes,” said the sideburned man. He drew himself up. “I am Prince Hans Westerguard, of the Southern Isles.”

“And now Chancellor of the Kingdom of Arendelle,” added Lord Myles.

“Chancellor?”

“A new title, created by Her Grace to honor the Prince for his role in the affair. He will serve as the queen’s right hand and aid in the ruling of the kingdom.”

Anna looked to the queen, and saw her nod her confirmation. “Prince Hans has done us a great service. It is the least I can do, and he has graciously accepted the post. His skills and knowledge are valuable and will help the kingdom immensely.” She spoke flatly, without any trace of emotion or feeling.

Anna nodded her own assent, but still she looked warily at the “prince.” “Very well. A pleasure, Prince Hans. I’d get up and shake your hand but Master Penrose has told me not to stand.”

He chuckled. “Please, don’t strain yourself. You’ve done more than you can possibly imagine; you deserve a rest.”

She rubbed her face wearily. “I’m sorry, my lords. I am still groggy.” She turned to address Prince Hans. “How could you have known what Lady Ysmir was planning, my l- Your Grace?” Using that to address someone other than the queen left a foul taste in her mouth.

“You may call me lord,” said Prince Hans. “That’s all I am while I am in Her Majesty’s service. As to your question…” His eyes darted to the queen. “I have my ways. The duke considered me his friend. He considered wrongly.” He chuckled.

Anna gave a puzzled frown. Something about that didn’t make sense, but her head was throbbing. “Well, then… may I ask why the duke cancelled his attack after he knew who you were?”

“He didn’t want to risk the wrath of the Southern Isles,” explained Lord Myles. “He was happy to antagonize House Arendelle by killing the last remaining one. Who would be left to wreak revenge on his own house? Some nostalgic patriots, but he considered it worth the risk. House Westerguard, though – Westerguards are all across Europa, from Corona to DunLoch. The Island King would certainly raise his sails and summon every ally in the hemisphere.” He dipped his chin. “The duke does not want his family to suffer that.”

“But Her Grace is the Island King’s daughter-in-law.”

“Er, well… yes, but, you know, only by law. Blood is thicker than ink.”

“I see.” That explained why Lady Ysmir didn’t want anyone to see the prisoner while he was locked up. Had she known his true identity? Did anyone else? She shifted. “And Lady Ysmir? The duke? Where are they now?”

“Currently rotting in the dungeons, with all the other co-conspirators,” spat Lord Myles. “The duke is a valuable hostage while alive, but Lady Ysmir…”

“We think it would be best if she were beheaded for treason,” finished Hans solemnly.

That was unexpected. Anna looked down. “As you say.”

“As the queen’s own protector, you are expected to perform the beheading. When will you be well enough to walk?” asked Lord Myles.

Over the shock, Anna managed to say “I don’t know. Master Penrose can tell you.”

“Very well,” said Lord Myles. “It will be postponed for the nonce.” He stood up and gave Anna a friendly smile. “You have done well, my lady. Quite well. You are truly a fearsome warrior.”

“Truly,” confirmed the prince.

Queen Elsa spoke, “And now, my lords, if you would leave us. I would have words with my Lady Protector. Alone.”

Prince Hans and Lord Myles bowed. “By your leave.” They exited, and then it was only Ser Anna and Queen Elsa. The room was cold, the air still, and Anna thought her heart might explode.

Queen Elsa looked at Anna for a long moment, unspeaking. When she opened her mouth, she spoke soft and quiet. “When I saw the duke’s men bearing down on me, I was afraid. Not for my life, but…” She paused. “For a lot of things. For your life, for instance. You didn’t hesitate to stand in their way. What is… Why did you do such a stupid, reckless thing?”

Anna blinked. “I… Your Grace?”

“What were you thinking, fighting all those men alone? _Alone?”_ She was talking faster now, her voice rising. “Why didn’t you just run? You could have easily run.”

“I couldn’t just run. I swore an oath – ”

“An oath? What does that matter next to your life?”

“Everything.”

“That’s stupid. You almost died.”

“If I died and you lived, it would have been worth it!” Anna realized she was yelling. “I swore an oath!” She pounded the bed with her fist. “I swore an oath to protect you and let every god damn me if I break it! I am my vows! That’s all I am!”

The queen’s returning stare was a moment of shock that fell into a gloomy cold. The enormity of Anna’s mistake hit her like a bludgeon. “Your Grace. I… forgive me for yelling, please.” Anna could hear her voice cracking. “I only meant… I spoke too frankly.”

“That’s just another word for honestly,” said the queen. There was an unmistakable tone of weariness and sadness. “You are a true knight,” she stated. It didn’t sound like a compliment. It sounded resigned, regretful, remorseful. Anna didn’t know why it hurt.

“That’s all I am,” repeated Anna. She paused for a moment, not knowing what else to say. What did she want? “I’m just your knight. Please. Let me show you that you can trust me.”

The queen blinked several times, and then turned abruptly away, wringing her hands together. “Prince Hans and Lord Myles have advised me to keep you close from now on. For my… my safety.” She cleared her throat. “As it happens, there is a… a matter that must be attended. And I have a mind that only you can attend it.”

Anna swallowed. “What is it, Your Grace? Anything. I’ll do it. Please.” The air was cool and strong. In that moment, it felt colder, and all of Anna braced itself against it, and still it came on. She felt paper-thin, and shivered.

Queen Elsa sighed loudly, turned her head, and closed her eyes. “A quest,” she said miserably, and left the infirmary.

 

* * *

 

The January air was frigid and stung the nostrils. The onlookers were wrapped in layers and layers of wool. Ser Anna envied them. She was feeling the brisk through her mail and jerkin. Her armor was currently in no fit shape to wear – it had a longsword-shaped hole in it. The wind caught her cloak and flapped it around by the trail, the golden crocus whipping around behind her. She drew Autumn, two-and-a-half feet of colorless steel, colder than the air. _Revenge_ , thrummed the sword.

Lady Ysmir stooped in rags that no doubt meant nothing to the chill. Ser Anna did not envy her. Lady Ysmir stared at the knight with lilac eyes that raged defiance. “Who holds that sword, young ser knight?” Someone pushed her down to the chopping block. “Swing surely. Swing that sword. It’s all you know how to do.”

The head rolled in the snow, blood followed it. Anna wiped Autumn on the snow, leaving red streaks. “To Aren, I consign thee.” A nearby herald called, “So endeth the life of Lady Ysmir, traitor, formal Royal Spymaster, Lady of the Wings.”

Ser Wendel grunted. “Kill one traitor, another springs up in her place. Her daughter won’t like this.”

“She won’t,” agreed Lord Myles.

“So it’s war.”

“The young Lady Corel won’t arise. And if she does, she will be put down,” said Lord Hans confidently. “Her Grace has entrusted the defense of the realm to me.”

_In lieu of appointing a new Marshal, you might have said,_ thought Anna. She sheathed her sword and went to pay her respects at the grave of Ser Tore Seastone, dead at thirty-one.

 


	14. The Quest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of this chapter, we are at just a little past the half-way mark for this story. "What's that?" I hear you cry. "Half-way?" Yes.

Anna saw even less of Queen Elsa now.

She hardly ever left her room, and she didn’t even admit servants to keep the fires lit or sweep the rushes. In her stead, Lord Hans, the Chancellor, held court. He didn’t sit the throne – that would be sacrilege – but he sat in a chair just below it. Anna stood at his side instead of the queen’s.

A snow-covered courier stood at the base of the dais, before the shrunken small council. No Marshal nor Royal Spymaster any more. Their duties were now the Chancellor’s, at least until the rebellion was put down.

“My lord.” The courier bent his knee.

“Rise. What news do you bring?”

“The castle Westfal has been taken by the Valkyrie. She stormed them in the night, and clapped Ser Hunter in irons. The Vestlandet is in complete disarray. Some of them, those who served the Corels for generations, are even flocking to the Valkyrie’s cause.”

“And of our demands?”

“Dismissed outright, my lord. The Valkyrie says there can be no peace unless her mother’s head is paid for with three heads: That of Lord Myles, of Lady Anna, and of… of you, my lord.”

Lord Myles barked a laugh. “Oh, if that’s all she wants.”

“Is that all?” asked Lord Hans.

“Aye, my lord.”

“Then you may go. You have come a long way. Help yourself to some warm soup in the kitchens, this weather is frightful.”

“Aye, my lord; thank you, my lord. You are most gracious.” He left.

“This rebellion is bad for business,” groaned Lord Hugoss, and he dabbed his forehead with a silk cloth. “The Wings were bad enough, but now the whole Vestlandet? If she crosses the Toadsmarsh she’ll be at our back door.”

“Has Lord Morning summoned his banners yet?” asked Lord Hans.

“Not yet,” said Lord Hugoss. “He claims that the weather has been inhibiting him.”

“Nonsense,” said Lord Myles. “The weather in the dale is fine. It’s only here in Crystalwater that the blizzard rages.”

Lord Hugoss dipped his chins. “It may be as you say, but that is what his Lordship says. And you know how difficult it can be to contact him on a moment’s notice.”

“Or several weeks’ notice, apparently,” growled Lord Myles.

Lord Hans stroked his sideburns. “The Valkyrie had no trouble raising her banners, yes?”

“Not apparently, no. As you say,” said Lord Hugoss.

“Something to keep in mind. When will your ships be ready to sail, Lord Admiral?”

Lord Hugoss waggled his chins. “Whenever you need.”

“I think the time has come to take the fight to the Wings. Gather a fleet and prepare to strike from the sea. We must make sure the Valkyrie does not have time to get comfortable,” said Lord Hans, and Lord Myles nodded his agreement.

“My lords, of course I agree that we must harry the Valkyrie’s smallfolk, but…” Lord Hugoss cleared his throat. “But the Vestland coasts are rocky, and the Wings rockier still. It is naught but cliffs. The only city on the coast is Falkberg.”

“And it is Falkberg I mean you to take,” said Lord Hans. “That city is singular for the Wingsmen. Without it, their trade will dry up as a grape in the sun. That is, unless you are reluctant to move against the Wings?”

Lord Hugoss puffed out his cheeks. “And what is the queen’s opinion on this?”

“The queen,” said Lord Hans, “is indisposed.”

Lord Hugoss looked between Hans, Myles, and Anna. Anna found herself fingering Autumn’s hilt as he stared with hard, unreadable eyes. His gaze lingered on Anna a moment longer than the rest. There _was_ something there, a sort of concentration, a peering frustration. At last he spoke, his voice croaking hoarsely: “No, my lords. It will be as you command.”

“Good,” chirped Lord Myles. “Then that only leaves the matter of the Lords Morning and Linnaeus.”

“In due time,” said Hans, and he stood. “Court is adjourned.” He nodded at Anna. “With me, ser. We must needs speak.” She followed him out the throne room and felt Lord Hugoss’s eyes boring into her back.

Hans had taken as his own the Crooked Tower, shorter than the Queen’s Tower and the Tower of Arendelle but squat and comfortable and centrally located. It was so-named because of its apparent tendency to lean. It was the warmest tower in the castle, and he kept his quarters on the top floor. The hearth was burning warm when Anna was let into his solar. It was a large, round room with a dark burgundy carpet inlaid with fanciful florid designs done in green and yellow. At the end of the room a portrait of the Young King and his queen sat above the hearth. Hans was wearing a white-and-gold striped doublet and white breeches to match, and a thick white cloak lined with ermine hung over his shoulders. He poured himself a cup of wine and offered Anna the same. She accepted it.

“To Arendelle,” he raised his cup at the Young King. The portrait stared back unseeing, short bristle mustache betraying no hint of any thoughts.

Anna drank to that. The wine was white and sweet, and cloying. Anna puckered her lips. “Tirrenian summerwine,” explained Hans. “Sorry if the taste caught you unawares. Wines can be mighty tricky at the best of times.” He smiled. “I find it to be a steady companion when it comes to running a country, however. Anyway, on to business.” He sat down in a red velvet chair and motioned for Anna to do the same.

Anna nodded and said nothing, taking her seat gingerly. Hans was a loquacious sort, affable and personable, and took his own cues. She wasn’t sure if she liked him – he certainly acted like he liked her, but everything lately had been odd. Everything.

“As you heard today, this ‘Valkyrie’s’ rebellion continues to vex us.” He wrinkled his nose. “More to the point, I have offered the Valkyrie much. I have offered her some amnesty if she lays down her arms and comes to Crystalwater to swear a renewed oath of fealty. But no, she persists in her folly. You heard so much yourself: The only thing that will satisfy her is heads. Mine, yours, and the snake’s. I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty fond of my head.” He smiled and chuckled slightly. “I certainly don’t want to give it over to a traitor and the daughter of a traitor.” He set his cup down. “You do know why she wants your head, right?”

“Of course. Because I cut off the head of her dear mother.”

“Got it in one. So now you know executing traitors makes enemies. Do you feel any regret about it?”

_I’m not sure._ “No.”

“That makes one of us, anyway.” He sighed. “It’s clear the Valkyrie needs to be put down, and House Corel attainted, but – Lord Morning won’t call his banners, Lord Linnaeus is old and slow, and Lord Hugoss constantly looks for excuses to do nothing. I tell you, what is a chancellor to do? Some days I wonder if the queen was truly rewarding me with this post.” He chuckled mirthlessly, and waved a hand. “Ah, well. It’s good to know I can rely on you, anyway. You’re the queen’s woman, through and through.”

She felt her chest swell with pride. “Yes, my lord, I am.”

“It is for that reason that I’ve decided to delegate some. Before you thank me, know this is not a favor.” He laughed. “It’s been some time since the Arenborg has had a castellan. I mean to give you the post.

Anna’s eyebrows rose. “Truly, my lord? But I – I don’t know how to be a castellan.”

“Neither do I. How hard can it be? Defend the castle, yes? Surely you could sit the battlements yourself. And on that note, I’m restoring the captainship of the Royal Guard to you.” He stroked his chin. “Do you have any experience leading armies?”

“I – No, my lord.”

“Pity, or I’d make you Marshal too. I’ll have to find someone else for that, then.”

Anna didn’t know what to say. “This is unexpected.”

“It needed to be done. This is war, and I trust you to defend the queen’s life – and, thus, the castle, should it come to it. This is all, of course, if you accept the post.”

Anna thought about it for a moment. She had gotten quite used to no responsibilities except for the queen’s safety, and this was out of the blue. She supposed it all added up to the same thing: At the end of the day, the castle’s safety and the queen’s safety were one. “Yes, my lord. I do accept.”

He made a nod in her direction, and then seemed to remember something. He sighed heavily, and put his chin on his hand. “Oh, damnation. I meant to see Ser Tazmus after court. Please excuse me, my lady. I will send for you later; the queen wants to have a word.”

“The queen?”

“Indeed. It’s about… the task.”

Anna returned to her own solar, thoughts of her promotion well and buried by the reminder of the queen’s words the last time they spoke. She kicked off her greaves and sat in front of the fire, fixing the flickering flames with a searching gaze. Outside the rattling windows snowflakes continued to fall rapidly. The blizzard had gone on since late January, and had continued long into February. Between the snowflakes and the fire, Anna had only one thought: _The task._

The queen had made mention of a task she meant for Anna. A _quest_ was the exact wording. It was, by far, the most baffling thing her queen had ever said. Quests were for storybooks, tales, and legends. Real knights didn’t go on quests. Lady Protectors weren’t meant to go running around on quests.

_But then,_ she thought, _I’ve hardly been a run-of-the-mill Lady Protector._

After Lady Ysmir Corel’s death was announced, her daughter, who was also named Ysmir, rose her banners in rebellion. She was the liege lord of the Wings, the rocky cliff-riddled river lands of the Vestlandet. So it was war. The self-styled Lady Ysmir II wanted no peace, only vengeance.

Her followers called her the Valkyrie, and soon the name had spread. She was said to be a monster of a woman, and that was either a good or a bad thing, depending on whom you asked. One thing that was sure was that she and her knights moved like quicksilver, never lost a battle, and could not be caught.

Queen Elsa charged Hans with dealing with the problem, and all the while she kept to herself in her private quarters. Some began to question whether she was okay. _In what sense?_ Anna wondered.

And as for Hans, and all the lords of the Arenborg… Once, Lord Hugoss called the Arenborg a den of vipers. She was growing tired of the relentless pettiness and politics. If the Valkyrie was the cause of all this, then surely she should just go and kill the woman. That was how you solved problems, right? You killed them?

_Swing that sword. That’s all you know how to do._ Lady Ysmir’s words bit her deep. Let Lord Hans deal with Hugoss and his recalcitrance. If the queen commands it, I’ll take off his head, too. _That’s all you know how to do._

The attitude among the castlefolk and the commons was markedly less skeptical. Her reputation spread rapidly after the Weselton affair. It was a debacle for Weselton, a crushing victory for Arendelle. The word went out that Prince Hans came at the last minute to warn the queen of the danger, and then Lady Anna, Ser Anna, Knight of Crystalwater, took up her sword and slew thirty men alone, a whirlwind of steel and blade, a force of nature. “She was raised in the forest by trolls. She fights like a demon.” “The Green Devil, sent by the gods to defend the queen.” “Gods save the queen.”

Well, she didn’t kill thirty men. She wounded eight and killed eleven, and she was reasonably sure she did not say eleven prayers. She had to make time for it later. The rest had lain down their arms when the duke shouted them to stop. Anna would have died, too, but for Maple. The thought made her smile and tear up a bit. _Why does it feel like Maple’s the only thing in this world that’s good?_ Well, her and the queen. The inscrutable queen.

But thinking about the queen didn’t make Anna smile. Not unless she closed her eyes tight and thought about the look on her face when Anna snagged that fish out of the water. Those eyes so deep and blue you could dive into them, a laugh like a spring breeze, freckles like a gentle sprinkling, barely visible in the cool light of morning, the imperfection that begat perfection. The queen’s smile was joy itself. _But all I seem to do is make her frown._ _I’m the stupid knight, and she’s the brilliant, perfect queen._

When she opened her eyes, it was dark outside. There was a hammering on the door. “Enter,” she yelled, rubbing her eyes.

It was Martin. He had grown at least four inches since last summer, such that now he was of a height with Anna. “M’lady,” he said, “the queen and Lord Hans have summoned you.”

She blinked her eyes at him. “Where to?”

“The queen’s solar, m’lady”

Anna nodded and slipped her legs into her greaves. She buckled them hastily and went out the solar. “Thank you, Martin,” she said on the way out. She paused a moment. “By the way, how was your day?”

“Unspecial, m’lady. The weather is too poor for arrow practice.” He looked down.

That gave her a thought. “Martin, how many of the squires are trained in using a bow and arrow?”

“Some,” he said, “but none very well. It’s not a very knightly weapon and all.”

Perhaps not, but it was a very effective weapon in the right hands, and a very useful one for defending battlements with. “You should encourage the other squires to take up the art. If the castle comes under attack, a bow on the castle walls is worth a hundred men-at-arms below.”

“Unless one of those men-at-arms is you,” he protested.

“I can die just as easily as anyone.”

He frowned at that, but said nothing. She left him to his frowning.

The queen’s solar entrance was guarded by Flynt the Bastard. He barely nodded to Anna as she passed. Inside, the queen was standing by the fireplace, now lit, and she was gazing out a window into the snowflake-studded black of night. Lord Hans was seated in one of her plush chairs, enjoying a cup of wine. The room smelled strongly of lavender. “Ser Anna,” Lord Hans greeted as she entered. Queen Elsa moved as he spoke, her head shifting slightly.

Anna took a knee. “Your Grace. My lord.”

“Rise, Ser Anna,” said Lord Hans. Annoyed, Anna stood tentatively, eyes fixed on the queen’s. _The queen is supposed to tell me to rise. Or I stay on my knee._ But she said nothing, and only stared back. Anna felt a tingle in her spine.

When Anna rose, nobody said anything. The only sound was the howling of the wind outside, tapping the windowpanes with a firm impatience; and the fire, burning away, hissing and gnawing at the bark and wood of the logs trapped in its grasp.

“You mentioned that this was about the task,” said Anna.

Queen Elsa turned more fully now, the light from her eyes falling on Anna like a spotlight. Anna swore she could feel the heat of her gaze. “Hans,” said the queen.

Lord Hans cleared his throat and put down his cup of wine. He leaned forward in his chair, elbows on knees and fingers clenched together. The side-whiskers on his face made him look like some red lion, stern and stolid. His brow furrowed and his eyes darkened as he spoke, “The queen and I have been discussing a matter of great import.”

“The Valkyrie’s rebellion?” asked Anna.

“No,” said Lord Hans. “More so. Something terrible and unknowable. Something that threatens the security of not only the kingdom entire, but all of Europa.”

“Ser Anna,” said Queen Elsa, “what do you know of magic?”

The small hairs on Anna’s neck rose. “I know very little, my queen. Only that it is very… strange.”

She nodded. “Just so.”

Anna hesitated before continuing, “And I have friends who know of magic. They say it is wonderful.”

“Wonderful,” repeated Queen Elsa hollowly. She blinked her eyes and turned her head away slowly, hands wringing each other through her teal gloves.

Lord Hans made a gesture with his hands. “What concerns us _is_ magic. Strange, yes, but probably not wonderful. We are not sure exactly what it is, but there are the signs. Take this blizzard.” He waved a hand. “For a month it has raged, first a flurry, and now a storm. It seems to grow stronger by the day, and it is focused only around Crystalwater. Do you not consider that curious?”

Anna hadn’t thought about it. She worked her jaw, and replied, “Now that you mention it, it is rather odd.”

Lord Hans nodded. “ _I_ might have left it off at that. ‘It’ll go away on its own,’ you know – but…” He scratched his chin. “Anna, have you heard the story of the Endless Winter?”

It had been ages since she heard that story. “I am familiar with it.”

“How familiar with it?”

“I only know it is the story of the Ice Queen,” said Anna. “Supposedly.”

“Tell us what you know, if you would be so kind.”

Anna was a little nonplussed at being asked to repeat what was really just a children’s story, but she spoke anyway. “Centuries ago, she was a terrible tyrant who conquered Arendelle and brought an endless winter to the land. Then, a legendary hero appeared and defeated her minions and, well, ended the endless winter.”

“More-or-less,” said Hans. “Do you recall what the origins of the Ice Queen’s powers are said to be?”

“It was a curse, my lord. Was it not?”

“That’s what they say. But they also made mention of something else. A magical artifact that she stole from the gods. An artifact that made her power _beyond_ extraordinary.” He stood up and clasped his hands behind his back, pacing across the room. “There is much written about the time of the Ice Queen, not all of it complementary – but of the beginning of her reign, they all write the same. _‘The dale’s steep and lowland edge whence the Queen of Frost were crowned came into a storm of snow and saw the sun no more, and from whence she rode, darkness followed, ‘till all the land of the Aren-dale were covered tip to tip in the snows, and joy smothered forevermore.’”_ Hans looked at Anna. “In other words, there was a blizzard centered on Crystalwater, that spread and spread, _until_ … the eternal winter was upon the land. If this blizzard we are experiencing now is the same blizzard of legend, then the eternal winter threatens us once more, and this is only a taste of the coming darkness.”

Anna felt her heart pound in anticipation. “Are you… serious, my lord? This isn’t some kind of _jape_ , is it?”

“Quite serious, I’m afraid. It was not my notion, you must understand – but the queen’s.”

A chill ran down Anna’s spine. Her eyes darted to the queen’s, though they were unfocused, glossy, avoiding Anna’s gaze. “This… This is all much to believe, but if it was true… What could we do?”

Queen Elsa spoke, “That is what I have been looking for. A way out of this endless winter.” She cast her eyes at the tapestries that lined the walls. “The same source that Lord Hans mentions speaks also of the Ice Queen’s artifact. It names it the ‘Golden Power,’ and claims it could grant any wish. It was with this artifact that she was able to extend her reach, to… precipitate the endless winter.”

Anna said, “I’ve never heard of a ‘Golden Power’ before.”

“You wouldn’t,” confirmed Elsa, still looking away. “Most talk of our nation’s providence centers around the legendary hero and his blade Wintersbane, which our source claims shattered the Golden Power into six pieces.”

“You wish me to find this magic blade, and put paid to this blizzard and whomever is causing it?” asked Anna, speaking slowly.

Hans smiled wryly. “Gods, no. The blade – nobody knows where it is, or what happened to it, or anything. The trail is utterly dry. After the legendary hero disappeared, so did his sword.”

“But… the Golden Power?”

“If there is any hope,” said Queen Elsa, “it lies with the Golden Power.”

Hans nodded firmly. “Indeed. We need you to find the six pieces before someone else does – whoever is behind this blizzard. Or else we face the possibility of retreading the frozen ground our ancestors walked.”

Anna felt dizzy. She closed her eyes, then put a hand on her head and shook it. “Find the six pieces… My lord – I don’t even know where they are.”

Hans chuckled lightly. “You needn’t worry about that. We believe we have a method of locating the pieces – but we can discuss that in greater detail on the morrow. Your only duty will be retrieving them and returning them to us.”

“What about the queen?” said Anna suddenly, eyes snapping open. “Won’t I be abandoning my post? My sword is sworn in her defense – ”

“No, you wouldn’t be abandoning anything,” said Lord Hans with a wave. “That’s why I put the defense of the castle and the Royal Guard in your hands. You can make sure it’s working to your satisfaction before you go. Defending the queen is important, make no mistake, but so is this task.”

“You are the only one we trust with this task, Ser Anna,” said the queen in a low voice, turning her head to look at Anna. “Please understand.”

Anna felt those eyes on her, and a strange swelling in her chest. She bowed her head. “Yes, Your Grace. I will do this thing for you. For Arendelle.”

Lord Hans nodded, and turned to the queen and bowed. “And now, Your Grace, I’ll take my leave, if it please you. I have some urgent work I must needs attend.”

“You may go, my lord,” said the queen. “We’ll talk more later.”

He bowed again and left, closing the solar door behind him. The fire in the hearth seemed to grow smaller in his absence, the room colder and more bewildering. Anna didn’t leave. She locked her eyes with the queen’s, and the queen stared right back.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been in here,” said Anna with a forced smile. She looked around. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

Queen Elsa flickered a smile. “What have I done with the place?”

“Invited me in.” It was meant to be in jest but the queen’s face fell so far she knew she had said too much. She attempted to deflect it with a laugh. “That was in jest, my queen.”

“Of course,” said Queen Elsa.

Anna fidgeted and shifted her weight from foot to foot. She had imagined a lot of things she might say to the queen if she got the chance again, but none of them came to mind, or they all seemed pointless and, honestly, quite absurd. But she knew the last thing she wanted was to walk away. The queen wasn’t dismissing her. She could talk to her, if she wanted. But about _what?_

“Soo,” said Anna, drawing out the sound, “what _do_ you make of the Valkyrie’s rebellion? I only ask because… well, Lord Hugoss, for instance, he’s – he’s curious. About what Your Grace thinks.”

The queen raised an eyebrow. “Curious, you said?”

“Yes, my queen. To tell it true, I think he is suspicious.”

“Do you mean that he is acting suspiciously, or he is suspicious of something?”

“Er, the former. No, wait, the latter. He is suspicious of me. Of us. Of you.”

The queen sighed. “Hans has told me what some folk are saying. They call Arendelle a triumvirate, since I have been…” She stopped.

Anna wanted to ask, _Since you have been what?_ But there wasn’t like to be much use in that. So instead she asked, “What is a triumvirate? Your Grace.”

“A rulership of three people,” said the queen. “In this case, or so much they say, it is Lord Hans, Lord Myles… and you.”

“Me?” blurted Anna, taken aback. “But I – I’m not ruling anything.”

“That isn’t the talk,” said the queen, eyes glinting. “Lord Hans finds it quite amusing. He says it must seem that way: Lord Myles is the brains, he’s the pretty face, and you’re the brawn.”

“He called himself a pretty face?” Anna heard herself asking. It wasn’t an unpretty face, she supposed, but, well, it came off as a bit presumptuous, and was an absurd thing to say amidst all goings-ons.

“Indeed,” said the queen with a twisting of the lip, and Anna laughed.

When Anna’s laughter subsided, she realized the implication behind the words. “But, wait – what about _you?”_

“What about me?”

“A rulership of three people – but you’re the queen.”

“I,” she said, “have been busy.”

Anna frowned. “With the blizzard?”

Queen Elsa’s lips moved into a smile and she turned away. “In a manner of speaking.” The wind outside rattled the windows with a sudden gust.

“Do you trust Lord Hans?” asked Anna.

The queen waited awhile before responding. “As much as I dare.”

Anna lowered her head. Somehow that wasn’t the response she was looking for. Still, it was something. Something was better than nothing. If the queen said Lord Hans could be trusted, then he could be trusted. _Her judgment is no doubt vastly superior to mine_ , thought Anna. _Swing that sword. It’s all you know how to do._

“Well, my queen, if you trust him, then so do I.” She pounded her fist against her chest.

The queen turned back. “That’s good to hear. I need you to trust him because this… quest is of utmost importance. Everything else can wait.” She looked away again. “Everything.”

“I’m your woman, my queen.” Anna smiled broadly. “I’m happy to be of service to you.”

She left the queen’s solar with a cocktail of emotion blazing in her gut. It was far better than she had expected, and also far stranger. Yes, she’d be away from the queen for a little while, but the queen trusted her and _only her_ with this _very important_ quest. The Golden Power. It was a bit odd, yes, but why would the queen waste her time? And the blizzard – was it the work of some sinister wizard? Perhaps a ghost of the ancient Ice Queen, come back to wreak her vengeance on her descendants? The more she thought about it, the more her mind jumped to the cascading possibilities. She knew she ought to be afraid, she even felt ridiculous contemplating it, she knew what she, a knight, had to do, what she was all about, what she had been doing as a knight – but for a moment, she felt very young again, the future a storybook, and her a storybook knight, off to save the beautiful storybook princess with a sword in her hand and a purpose in her heart. Or, well, she supposed the princess was a queen, now.

She pushed the thought away. _Don’t be crazy, girl._ She was only doing was she was bid. Doing what the queen commanded, because the queen commanded it, as befit her station, and no more. But she went to sleep thinking about platinum hair, and smell of lavender, faint and strong.

The next day, Lord Hans summoned Anna to the council room. He was leaning over the wide, round table, and looking intently at an enormous skin map of the kingdom. “ARENDELLE” was plastered across its header. The queen was seated, her gloved hands folded in her lap, and she stared at the map through half-lidded eyes.

Anna recognized some of the landmarks from her own map, but this map was more richly detailed, splattered with drawings and small letters. At the center was a big star labeled “Crystalwater.”

Lord Hans looked up when she entered. He flashed a grin. “Ah, good morrow to you, Ser Anna.”

“And to you as well, my lord. You seem to be in good humors.”

“Good work always puts me in good humors. But don’t take that to assume this questing business doesn’t leave me anxious. It’ll be delicate work.” He beckoned her to come closer. She did, and he pointed at the map.

“This is a map of the kingdom.” He pointed at Crystalwater. “This is where we are,” he said. “The city Crystalwater.”

“I can read that,” said Anna.

“You can read?” His gaze grew dark for a moment. “I beg your pardon. The talk is you were raised by trolls.”

“Indeed, my lord, I was; but I can still read.”

“It’s true?” He looked taken aback. “I thought that was just a rumor, or a figure of speech. You were truly raised by trolls?”

“Oh yes, my lord. I am an orphan probably born of peasant farmers or some like.”

Hans stuck out his bottom lip thoughtfully and nodded his head. Queen Elsa stiffened and cleared her throat. “Can we get back on topic?” she said coolly.

“Yes, right,” said Lord Hans. He pointed back at Crystalwater, then moved his finger up along the Springway until he got to the Rockwoods – where the trolls lived, Anna knew. And then he kept moving his finger up until it pointed at the Gobwoods, a vast area where, according to the trolls, the no-good, ufgoody goblins lived. “These are the Gobwoods, the northern half of what was once called the Wolfswood.” He pulled his finger back and stood up straight. “According to Ser Hiccough’s accounts – he is the source of which we spoke yesterday – according to his accounts of the First King’s reign, the Gobwoods were one of six places the Ice Queen was said to have had her minions.”

“Minions, my lord?” She paused, and added, “Ser _Hiccough_ , my lord?”

“Yes, he was Berkish, and a bit of an oddball at that. In those days, Berkish men always had queer names. Anyway, yes, minions. Ser Hiccough’s accounts contradict that of the contemporary accounts in a few ways, but he wrote about the Golden Power, and one area that he wrote on near-exclusively was that of the Ice Queen’s political doings. It is from him that we know of the initial conquests. But specifically, he wrote about the Ice Queen’s minions, so-called, her ‘Ice Lieutenants,’ and named the places they lived.”

“Her minions.” She thought back to the story. The six challenges that the legendary hero needed to face. “Such as the kraken, the ghast…”

“Yes, that’s precisely right.” His brow furrowed. “The difficulty is that some of the places don’t exist anymore, or at least not in quite the same way. This might only be a matter of academic interest, but Ser Uther Linnaeus wrote in his own accounts that…” He stopped to stoop over a pile of papers to the side. He shuffled through them, drew one out, and read in a clear, loud voice: “The _‘Minions of the Queen were multifarious and inextricably linked to Her. What She said, they said; what She did, they did; and She gave them All.’_ ” He let drop the paper. “Nothing is written of what happened to the Golden Power after it was shattered, except that it broke into six pieces. And the Ice Queen had just that many minions.”

“Ah,” said Anna. “So you believe her minions ended up with the six shards?”

“Yes,” said Hans, “and no. The problem with that theory is that her minions were _slain_ beforehand.” He held up a wagging finger. “However, that does not mean all is lost. It may be some connection persists between the named locations, the minions, and the missing shards.”

“How so?”

“Well. Take the wolf beast, who is described as” – another paper – “ _‘living in the shadows of evergreens, all at once green and white with forest floors dense with pine needles ever-untouched by sunlight.’_ It goes on like that, but – it seems that it’s most likely a description of the Wolfswood, which would explain the origin of the name. But the southern half of those woods, which were once wild and weedy, are now all but colonized. A road runs clear through it, and Burrowstown is situated not far from its center. _However,_ the _north_ half of those woods – now called the Gobwoods – that’s where men still fear to tread. It’s a special place. Magical, I daresay. The kind of place a shard of power might be.” He grinned like a child with candy.

Anna frowned. She had been raised in the Rockwoods, and never heard the Gobwoods spoken of in _fearful_ tones, just dismissive ones. “There are many reasons why men don’t go to the Gobwoods, my lord,” she said slowly. “I haven’t known it to be a feared place. It could be that the goblins living there don’t like people.”

“Aha. Goblins.” He chuckled. “That’s amusing.”

“That’s what the trolls said.”

Queen Elsa stood. “I’m afraid Hans is not communicating the point well-enough. It’s not about fear or rumors, it’s about a latent power that… that you can _feel_ in places of magic. The Rockwoods are a forest – the Gobwoods are a _forest._ ”

“It still sounds like a shot in the dark, to me,” said Anna tentatively.

Queen Elsa stared frostily at her. Anna shivered involuntarily, and tried to steady herself. “I have a _feeling_ about these Gobwoods.”

“The queen’s blood is that of the Ice Queen’s,” commented Hans with a faint smile and a lopsided shrug. “Blood is thick when it comes to magic.”

“I… oh,” said Anna. “That makes sense.” It didn’t, really – but she couldn’t bring herself to contradict the queen. And what’s more, she really was out of her element. What did she know of magic, after all? She had a magic sword and a magic ring and a magic friend, but, well, that didn’t mean she knew anything about all that. _Swing that sword. It’s all you know how to do._ Anna hung her head. “I apologize, I only wanted to understand.”

“No harm in that,” said Hans. “Anyway. The Gobwoods. That’s the place to go.”

Anna nodded. “And I’ll find… _one_ shard there?”

“That is so. Or so much we hope.”

“And how will I find it? The Gobwoods are a big place.”

“The wiles of magic are tricky. I know not how, but – this is all that we know. The rest you can only learn by going to the Gobwoods yourself. However it happens, if you do manage to locate the shard, we’ll know we’re on the right track.”

“Right,” said Anna. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but she wasn’t for making decisions. She was a sword-swinger. “Very good, then. I’ll leave on the morrow, if it please you.”

“Excellent. The sooner begun, the sooner done, I always say.” Hans chuckled and rolled up the map. “Won’t you join me for lunch, Ser Anna? We will be having capons and honeycombs.”

Queen Elsa returned to her quarters and Ser Anna had lunch with Hans and Lord Myles, who looked to be in quite a good mood. They ate in a small dining room at the base of the Crooked Tower, Hans sitting at the head of a short mahogany table dressed with violets in vases and an elegant gold-and-silver candelabra. Little pink candles burnt orange flames that reflected Lord Myles’s pale eyes as he told jape after jape about the various characters of the realm, mostly at the Valkyrie’s expense, though some at Lord Hugoss’s. Hans laughed at Lord Myles’s quips with a twinkle in his eyes.

Talking about the rebel got Anna thinking about the night previous. Lord Myles just got finished explaining what a bitch the Valkyrie is (which explained why her “dogs” were in such heat as to fight so hard for such a lost cause) when Anna spoke up. “My lord,” she said, addressing Hans. He looked up. “Last night, the queen mentioned that people are calling the kingdom a triumvirate.”

Lord Myles laughed very loudly, and Hans half-grimaced and half-smiled, adjusting himself in his seat. “Yes, it’s something I mentioned to the queen while I was grousing about Lord Morning. She had Kai send a letter to his Lordship while I complained that everyone seems to see the kingdom as a triumvirate.”

“Well, my lord…” Anna paused. “ _Is_ it?”

He shook his head grimly. “No, and I’m glad it’s not. The queen’s tasks, as you know, demand all of her attention. We are only emergency rulers, dealing with the rebellion and the monotony of the day-to-day while the queen struggles with the true issues.”

“We?” repeated Anna.

“Yes, us three here.”

“Call it what you want,” said Lord Myles, mouth full of stuffed capon, “but all we do, we do in the queen’s name. And that’s the honest truth. Anyone who calls it a triumvirate is likely just jealous.” He wiped his mouth. “Emergency rulers, yes. That makes a great deal more sense.”

Anna stirred her cup of wine. “Where does the term come from? Triumvirate, I mean. I’d never heard it before.”

“It’s a term from the old Helvetian Republic, before it fell and became an Empire,” said Hans. “Three men ruled the republic side-by-side, and were thus called a triumvirate.”

“What happened?”

Hans shrugged. “One of them killed the other two, and the triumvirate became a monarchy.”

Lord Myles sniggered. “Ah, but we needn’t worry about that. This isn’t a triumvirate, and we aren’t triumvirs. We’re _emergency rulers_ , at best.” He rubbed his left wrist tenderly and then lifted his cup. “To us, then.”

Lord Hans smiled and raised his cup. “To us.”

Ser Anna looked between the two of them. She raised her cup. “To the queen.”

“To the queen.”

“To the queen.”

She went down to the yard that day to see what the squires got up to when the snow was too heavy for any real training. Very little, it turned out – many of them were in the barracks, and Ser Puck was explaining how to string a bow. He shot Anna a glare as she came in.

“Ser Anna,” he said with a curled upper lip. “Your squire seems to have convinced damn near everyone in the castle to take up bowry.”

“Is that a problem, Ser Puck?”

“For me, it is,” he said with crossed arms. “Now I have to _teach_ damn near everyone in the castle bowry.”

“You _have_ to?” asked Anna, annoyed. “What of the master-at-arms?”

“He’d teach them wrong. I tell you, that man doesn’t know a bowstring from an arrow feather.”

She laughed. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

After doing her rounds, seeing to the changing of the guard and the readiness of the men-at-arms (who now took their orders, nominally anyway, from her), she made to return to her solar. Since she would be away, she knew that she had to make the arrangements for her absence. She resolved Ser Tazmus made a fine interim Captain, but who would be castellan in her stead? Whom did she _trust_ enough for that? She supposed Ser Tazmus might take up both duties, but something told her that was unwise: He had seemed far too pleased to be appointed interim Captain, though it was her opinion he ought to be a great deal more abashed ever since the Weselton affair. The thoughts of Flynt the Bastard came to her mind at that.

It made a lot of sense why Flynt would be angry that it was handled poorly. He was always dolorous, but since the Weselton affair, he was gloom itself _._ Rain clouds followed him everywhere. Small wonder: His natural father was Ser Tore, and he was young, the youngest in the Guard except for her.

She was brooding about Flynt as she entered the Queen’s Tower. To her surprise, Lord Hugoss was waiting for her in the atrium. He dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief, and had a feverish look on his eyes.

“Ser Anna,” he said. “Good to see you.”

“And you,” she lied in response. “How are you this day?”

“Not well,” he spoke in a low voice and approached quickly. Anna’s hand went to her sword. His eyes darted to it. “I don’t mean to fight you. How could I even? I just need to know.”

“Need to know what, my lord?” asked Anna warily, hand still on Autumn’s hilt. _We’ll cut the gristle out of him, my sweet Anna._

“Your _loyalties_ ,” he hissed the word. “I thought you were the queen’s woman. Are you? Speak truthfully, damn you, remember your vows.”

“Damn yourself,” snarled Anna. “I am the queen’s woman, through and through. What are you after?”

“ _Hans_ ,” he said. He looked around the atrium furtively. They were still alone. His hands fell on her shoulders. “Who is he? He’s been sitting under that throne for two months now and all my _why’s_ still mean nothing.”

“He is the queen’s man. She trusts him,” said Anna.

“But _why?_ ” he hissed, his voice growing lower, barely a whisper. “Do you know he was a castaway? Of course you do, but listen. I wrote the Island King about him, and he reports that Prince Hans Westerguard is his 13th son. The same one who was _lost at sea when Blackstone was swallowed up by the storm.”_

“What? But… _what?”_

“How is it possible that he survived at sea for _months_ only to end up stowed away on board a ship in the Royal Navy? And then he claims knowledge of a plot by Lady Ysmir and the Duke, both of whom he couldn’t have _possibly_ talked to for _months_ beforehand!”

Anna made a confused noise. “But… Lady Ysmir _did_ talk to him. Every day while he was in prison, some said.”

“And that doesn’t strike you as extraordinarily strange? _I_ don’t trust Hans. I don’t trust anyone. But why does the _queen_ trust him? She’s brilliant, always was, reads like a fiend, the soul of wisdom; and Hans’s story is full of holes. You’re the queen’s woman. If you mean that truly, then you’ll…”

He trailed off at the sound of the atrium door opening. The howling of the wind and the creak of hinges filled the room, and then went away with a slam. Lord Hans stood in the threshold, his face calm and hard, his mantle caked with snow. “Ah, Lord Hugoss! I was hoping I might have a word with you.” Lord Hugoss moved away from Anna in a hurry. Lord Hans regarded the both of them with a cool look. “Is there a problem?”

“No, my lord,” said Lord Hugoss. “What is this word about?”

“The ships, my good man. Falkberg won’t wait forever, and the queen” – he produced a parchment that bore the royal seal – “has commanded the assault begin _immediately_.” He smiled humorlessly. “Shall we convene in the council room to discuss the attack?”

Lord Hugoss paled. He dabbed his forehead with a silk handkerchief. “As you command, my lord.” Hans opened the door and left, and Lord Hugoss moved to follow, his eyes shooting Anna a panicked, furtive look before he had gone.

Fighting the shivers in her spine, Anna stood in silence for several moments before she climbed the steps of the Queen’s Tower. As she went up, she could almost feel the Arenborg falling away behind her. _Pettiness and politics. Den of vipers._

_I’ve never tasted viper’s blood,_ thrummed Autumn.

She found herself walking up to the third level, where the queen’s solar was. One more level would bring her to the royal quarters, where, once upon a time, the queen and her parents had lived. The queen when she was a princess, that was. But Anna never went up to the fourth level.

A guard stood by the door. _Is the queen in?_ But she didn’t ask. She nodded at him and pushed open the door all the same.

Queen Elsa was sitting by an unlit fire, a ratty old brown tome in one gloved hand, a small brown sphere in the other. Her lips, normally a dulcet pink, had dark stains on them. She looked up at the sound of an unexpected intruder, and she pulled away ever so slightly. On the low table in front of her knees was a wooden box, lid ajar, with a good deal more small brown spheres inside. Carved along the edges of the box were designs of feathered serpents and human skulls with wings.

“What is…” The queen stopped as she started, and all at once put the chocolate ball back in the box and licked her lips, looking away from Anna all the while. “Ser Anna. I was not expecting you.”

Nor was Anna expecting chocolate. “Is that… chocolate, Your Grace?” She attempted to keep the quiver, the faint hint of longing, out of her voice – but she doubted she was successful.

The queen smiled ruefully, not quite making eye contact. “It is. Please, take it away from me. I fear I will overindulge.” She pushed the box away.

Anna caught herself laughing. She moved forward carefully, until she stood opposite the queen, the chocolate between them.

“I was quite serious. Help yourself.”

Anna knew she mustn’t dare, but she would not refuse her queen. Carefully she picked a ball out of the box and put it in her mouth.

It was better than she remembered it. She could not help sighing when she swallowed. It was such an audible noise that she was sure the queen had heard it. She lifted an eyebrow at Anna.

“I, ah, I have a weakness for sweets, Your Grace. Particularly chocolate. Growing up, people always told me I had a sweet tooth.” She scratched the back of her neck, fully aware that her cheeks must be red.

“Really?” asked the queen softly. She looked down at the box with a ghost of a smile. She closed her book and set it on her lap, and the fingers of her gloved hands played with each other for a long moment. “I’m also quite fond of chocolate. Probably over fond.”

“I can see that, Your Grace,” said Anna, and then she blinked several times, and added quickly, “Well, not that you _look_ like you’re over fond of chocolate – I only meant – you look _beautiful_ in fact – or, erm, well – that is, I only meant – since you were eating the chocolate and all – ” She quickly degenerated into a series of stammers, and she had to bite her own tongue to stop talking.

The queen’s eyes glowed in reply, and she looked up at Anna, her hands now working at each other relentlessly. She breathed a visible sigh, breath steaming the air.

Anna shifted tacks, desperate to save face. “That book you’re reading. What is it? If I may. Your Grace.”

Queen Elsa’s head snapped down to the book. “This?” She paused, and picked it up off her lap. “This is the record of Ser Hiccough’s accounts of the Ice Queen’s reign. It is the only copy that I know of in all the world.”

“Oh?” asked Anna. “That sounds interesting.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely. I would – well, I think I’d like to read it some time.”

The queen’s eyes seemed to shrink. “You… _would?”_

Anna wrung her hands together. “Well, I… If it please Your Grace.”

The queen concentrated her eyes on the book, her fingers played with its spine. She set it down carefully on the table. “Nobody has ever expressed an interest in the books I read, before.”

“Well, it’s important, isn’t it?” asked Anna. “You know, because of this blizzard. And I do like to read. I read a lot growing up, even though I know I must seem like such a rube to you.” She smiled. “And then after I read it, we could talk about it, and compare notes and impressions. If you liked.”

“Yes… I… I would like…” She stood up and turned away suddenly. “I think you had better go,” she said quietly.

Anna was crestfallen. “What? Why?”

And then the queen’s voice was sharp, harsh. “Why? Because I _said so._ ”

Anna _had_ gone too far. One should never speak that way to their queen. _You’re a knight, you fool, no worthy companion for a queen._ “I’m… sorry. I’m only… confused.”

Silence for a moment. Then, “Me too,” whispered the queen.

And then, like a tidal wave, the words came out, unbidden and fast. “I only want to know what happened to you. To us, I mean. I thought we were getting along. I mean, I knew I liked you, and I even thought you liked me too. I thought you and I were getting along well, and…” She paused, and laughed a little at her own, stupid little mind. “Isn’t that silly? I’m such an idiot.”

Queen Elsa walked over to the window, head decidedly turned away from Anna. “Don’t say… It’s not… _so_ silly.”

“I only… I want to know why you don’t trust me. I won’t say I don’t blame you, but,” Anna swallowed a scratchy lump in her throat, “I would like to know why.”

Suddenly, the queen laughed pitilessly, a low and choking sound. She sucked in a breath and spoke, her voice high and tinted. “Oh, me too. I would like to know ‘why’ as well. Wherefore so much? The gods are the cruelest japers of all. I often ask why they brought you to me. _You_ , of all people.”

Anna’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

Queen Elsa put her hands on the windowsill and hung her head. “You,” she said, her voice low and dangerous.

Anna approached carefully. “What did I do? Please, I only want to know. Whatever it was, I’ll fix it. I’ll do whatever it takes.” She spoke in a small voice. She had never seen her queen like this before. “What is it?”

Queen Elsa lifted her head and stared into the window pane. The glass reflected her face, and in it Anna could see those ice floe eyes, blue wounds carved asunder a face of broken marble, the bound bun of platinum sheen above, all a dapple of light amidst the inkiness of the void beyond; wind and sky. And over it, she saw herself, the green knight with the red hair in twin braids, cloak anon; steel and blade.

“Fear,” said Queen Elsa quietly.

“Fear?” repeated Anna. A thousand thoughts took root in her head, a thousand-and-one responses. Her heart beat her chestplate like a drum. She was close now. She reached out a hand. “What are you afraid of – ”

“ _DON’T TOUCH ME!”_ The words split the air like shattering glass. Queen Elsa spun around, her back now against the window, her hands on the sill. Her chest rose and fell to panicked breaths. “Do NOT touch me!”

Anna froze, hand outstretched, mere inches from the queen. The air outside looked cold – very cold, frost had begun to form on the glass. _Fear._ “Me?” Anna’s voice cracked. “You’re… you’re afraid of _me?”_

Anna knew not what was in Queen Elsa’s expression. Everything. “No… Anna…”

She took several steps back, and looked at her hands. Gauntleted in green, but beneath was not pale, freckled skin – but red. She could see it through the gauntlets. She was red, red all over. Red hair, red freckles. Red blood everywhere. “Of course,” she whispered. “Of course you’re afraid of me.” Her throat grew tight. Ever since the queen first saw her, what had she done but killed, and killed, and maimed? So much blood was on her hands. She could scrub and wash her hands in the river but the blood was a stain forever. And the queen saw it all. She had no choice. Anna was bound to her. And Anna was a _monster._ A killer. _Swing that sword. It’s all you know how to do._ Of _course_ Queen Elsa was afraid. She was afraid of her Lady Protector. The Green Devil. The demon. The whirlwind of steel and blade. What happened at the lagoon, really? Would she ever know? Was there blood there, too? Where _wasn’t_ there blood?

“I’m a killer. I’m a monster,” said Anna, her voice a hollow, endless cavern.

Queen Elsa opened her mouth to speak but only a whine came out. Her shoulders trembled. “No – I – Anna – I _can’t…”_ _Fear._

Anna had seen enough. “F-Forgive me, Y-Your Grace,” she choked, and then she turned and ran.

It was all so obvious now. She tore off her armor and flung herself, shivering, on her bed, in naught but her underclothes. She curled up in a ball. _How could anyone really_ like _you? You’re a killer._ Autumn lay on the bed too, ruby pale and black-looking in the gloom. She kicked it off and it hit the rushes clattering. Her feet and legs were bare, pale and unarmored, and terribly red.

“What do I do?” she asked the night. “I don’t _want_ to be a monster.”

In her dream, she wielded a blade that looked like ice and water and snow. It shimmered in the light and glowed like a patient moon. Queen Elsa stood at the end of a throne room, on a crystalline dais. But this was not the throne room of the White Keep. It was pure, solid ice, and the light that streamed through its crystal-clear windows was white with light pure and high and thin. The air was hard to breath.

Queen Elsa saw her enter. Ice came at Anna from all directions, spikes and spears stabbing at her. But her sword reflected all of it. She walked forward, and the queen fell to her knees.

“I don’t know how,” Elsa said in a voice that was not her own. It was older, stronger, and more defeated. It was a crumbling glacier, an avalanche, a falling of a shelf of snow.

“I do,” said Anna in a voice that was not her own, low but cracked and filled with purpose. She stabbed Queen Elsa through the chest. A red stone fell out of her hands.

Anna woke feeling terrible and sick and tired. _I slept too much,_ she thought, though it was still night outside. Blizzarding clouds blocked the moon, and it was dark.

She continued to lay in bed for a long, long time. _At least on your quest, you won’t be around to scare her._ _Lord Hans will watch over her, better than you._ She stood and realized that her armor – newly fixed as it was – was nothing to wear for a long journey. _The sooner begun, the sooner done._ She put on her green tunic and white leggings and wrapped up in her green cloak and a padded green woolen surcoat embroidered with her golden crocus. She brought her shield, sword, and blue ring. As she rummaged her belongings, she found her old green hat with the long tail. She put that on, too. She looked at herself in the vanity. Her hands were bare, except for the ring, so she put on some fur gloves. She drew the hood of her cloak over her head. It draped all about her face.

She found Martin in his quarters and bid him accompany her to the stables. The morning was cold and snowing heavily. The cold was bone-deep, but she saddled her mare all the same. Martin prepared some saddlebags filled with rations and traveling amenities. Some rugs were draped over the horse to hold back the chill, and snowshoes were tied to her hooves. The mare whinnied in the cold and gave Anna a baleful look. She patted the horse’s mane and fed her half a frozen carrot, then mounted and made to go out. The snowshoes padded gently over the snow.

“When will you return?” asked Martin.

_Hopefully? Never._ “In two weeks’ time at least. More likely in a moon’s turn hence. Be good, Martin. You’re the castellan ‘till I get back.”

“Me?” His eyes widened. “I’m just a squire. And I’m only 13. And – ”

“Yes, that’s all true. You’re also almost 14,” she reminded him, “and you’re the best man here. Make sure the castle is well-defended. Make sure the men train at archery. Tell anyone who gives you a hard time they’ll have the Green Devil to contend with on my return.” Anna saluted him without smiling, and she put her mare into a steady pace, out through the gates of the Arenborg, across the moat, between the houses quiet and white with snow, and northward bound beyond the city walls.

 


	15. The White Forest

Anna chewed the greasy nib of her quill, inked, and wrote.

 _Dear Kristoff,_ the letter read; _I know I have written you four times since last we spoke, but things keep happening that I feel the need to relate. And you have not responded to a single letter, so it may be that you just need yet another to nudge you into writing a reply. Or perhaps you have forgotten how to read and write already? I tease, of course – there could be no better teacher than Anders._

_How have you been? I hope the ice work has been good. I know this season can be hard on you icers, but you always do seem to find a way to pull through. I admit I’m somewhat jealous of your resilience._

_The troubles with the queen that I related in my last letter have improved not at all. We’re now on speaking terms, but it is a singular thing – she never emerges from her quarters. I am sure I did something, somehow, but I know not what._

_You may have heard of the ‘Valkyrie’ who has risen in the west. The lords sent her some peace terms, but she’s won every battle, and she has at least two thousand horse under her. I mean, we_ did _kill her mother. Not that I know what that’s like, but… I guess if someone killed the queen, I’d dedicate my whole life to exacting revenge. Sissil Morey says revenge solves nothing. It has to solve something, right? Or people wouldn’t care about it?_

_Please write back when you can. Just anything to let me know you’re still kicking up there. And give Sven a carrot for me. I miss you all._

_Love,_

_Anna_

She set the quill aside, blew on the ink, and rolled up the parchment. She dribbled some wax over the ends and pounded the blob with a crocus-embossed seal – another gift from Lord Hugoss. She found Kai before court that day and packed him off with the letter. “To Burrowstown,” she told him; and he said he’d get one of the castle couriers on it post-haste. Anna went to court to hear the envoy’s report on the peace terms sent to the Valkyrie.

 

* * *

 

She was four days out from Crystalwater and three days ahead of the snowstorm when she encountered two freeriders going the opposite way on the Springway, dressed warmly each and wearing gray cloaks with silver sunburst pins.

“Well met,” Anna said to them as they came up. The ground was white, and they were as silhouettes against the blank fog. She inspected their pins and said, “By that sigil, I call you Lord Morning’s men.”

“Aye, that we are,” said one of them, a dapper youth, by looks in his mid-twenties, with flinty, hazel eyes and long, black hair. He looked very tall, and had a broad, square set of shoulders. “I am a knight, and this is my squire. Pray, what is a maiden doing riding the Springway alone? The way is often safe, truly, but these are dangerous times.”

She smiled at him. “I am but a humble traveler, ser, on my way for the north parts.”

The squire spoke. He had a thick brown beard and looked to be in his late-thirties. His eyes were gray and sunken, but fierce. “A humble traveler, indeed. Is that a sword at your belt?”

She wrapped her cloak around Autumn’s hilt. “’Tis.”

“I don’t blame you,” said the young knight. “In these troubled times, it serves all men or women to go armed. Are you bound for Vardale, mayhaps?”

“Yes, ser, I am.”

“My squire and I shall accompany you so far. ‘Tis only a half-day’s travel from here, and we are in no hurry.”

Anna wasn’t expecting that. She lowered her head. “You are kind to offer, ser, though I would not hope to detract from your business.”

“It is no trouble. The chancellor can wait. I would be remiss in my duties as a knight to let a citizen travel defenseless on the roads in a time of war.” He smiled, but the squire did not look humored.

“That is gallant of you, ser. May I have a name to call you by?”

“Of course. I am Ser Harris Morning, baron of Dullwater. My squire is called Oswald of Shon.”

Anna thought to the knight’s name. “Morning, was it? You are of House Morning? Ser.”

“Aye,” he said. His expression darkened. “I am the youngest brother of his Lordship and the late Ser Richard.”

 _Of course_. “It is an honor, ser.” She dipped her head again.

He smiled blandly. “Is it? Have you heard of me before?”

“A… little, ser.”

“Then you should be a little honored. Titles are merely titles; honor comes from deeds, not words. That is something my brother said often.”

Anna didn’t know quite how to respond to that. She certainly wasn’t expecting anything like it by way of response. “As you say, ser.”

He nodded, and then turned his palfrey north. “We had better get moving. The day won’t last forever.” He sniffed the air. “Oswald, how do you find the weather?”

“Bad and worsening, ser. I mislike these southerlies and these northerlies alike. I would rather we did not go to the city after all.”

“Well,” said Ser Harris, “I agree. But there’s no aid for it. It must be done.”

As they rode, Anna felt bold enough to ask: “You mentioned you were seeing the chancellor?”

“Aye. Would you know him?”

“No,” Anna lied.

“A pity. Me either. I have only heard things, but what I have heard is not good.” He looked about him at the ghostly scene. The fields all around were white with the dust of snow, and trees that had long-since shed leaves carried small drifts that would sometimes fall in an errant breeze.

“Not good, ser?”

“Indeed, not. I hate gossip, but the talk is that the queen has been absent these past weeks. That the chancellor rules with the steward and the Lord Protector at his side.” He grimaced. “ _Lady_ Protector, I should say. The one they call the Green Devil.”

Anna frowned and looked away. The squire did not fail to catch the motion. He cleared his throat and gestured to her cloak. “That sigil on your cape. I have never seen its like before. You wouldn’t happen to be the daughter of a knight, or a young lady?”

“Oh.” Anna thought for a beat. “No. That is, yes. It is my… father’s arms.”

“I see,” said the squire.

“That explains the sword, then,” said Ser Harris with a nod. “I have known knights to teach their daughters to fight. It’s few enough, to be sure, but it’s not the oddest thing I’ve ever seen. What is your father’s name? Mayhaps I know him.”

“My father is dead,” said Anna quickly. “Ser. His name was… Ser Martin.”

“Not Ser Martin the Quick?”

“No, ser. You may not know him, he was a hedge knight.”

“Oh, well, then,” said Ser Harris.

“A hedge knight,” scorned the squire.

“Now, Oswald, what’s all this? There is no matter with hedge knights.”

“There is much the matter with hedge knights, ser. Most are thieves and brigands hiding behind a coat-of-arms. You know the truth of this better than I. Anyone can be knighted these days. You said so yourself.”

“That is true,” admitted Ser Harris with a note of melancholy. He turned back to Anna. “Your father wouldn’t have been a thief or brigand, would he?”

“No, ser.”

Ser Harris smiled. “There you go. See, Oswald? A true hedge knight.” Oswald grunted.

They rode for the rest of the day, talking occasionally of this and that. Ser Harris was an easy man, of light humor and good nature, Anna decided. But his face would flicker darkly when his mission to Crystalwater was mentioned, and he would sigh and wave it off. Anna began to suspect the true reason for the escort was not any particular sense of gallantry, but the simple desire to put off his meeting the chancellor as long as possible, and a good excuse settled better in an honest mind than no excuse at all.

Well, perhaps that was unfair. Ser Harris did seem genteel. But she knew this was the same Ser Harris who wrote the queen about the coronation tournament to express his desire that the giant’s killer be brought to justice. It drove a prickling sense of unease through her, and though she did not fear him, she was glad she didn’t reveal her identity.

The sun was going down by the time the palisade walls of Vardale came into view. Oswald shifted around in his saddle. “We aren’t staying the night, ser?”

“No, Oswald. We stayed here last night. We must needs make up for lost time.” Ser Harris sighed and looked at Anna. “We will ride with you to the city gates, and then part ways. Is that meet?”

“Yes, ser, it is; and thank you.”

At the walls, he bid farewell. “Happy trails to you, Ser Harris,” she told him.

“And to you. By the way, I think I may have heard of another Ser Martin after all, but I did not know this one to have any daughters. What is your name?”

She briefly considered lying to him, but decided that he had earned a half-truth after all. “Anna,” she said.

He shook his head. “Alas, nothing. He was not a hedge knight, anyway.” He dipped his head at her, and Oswald’s gray eyes flashed, and the two turned and trod off into the dusk, back down the way they had just come.

Vardale was not as large as Crystalwater, though still a good deal larger than Burrowstown. It sat at the confluence of the Mud River, which flowed down from the Rockwoods to the north and west, and the Standing River, which came from the Up-And-Downs to the east, and continued southwest to the sea. Vardale sprawled all around the fork and was thus a city in three sections, with bridges spanning the wide water ways that were constantly filled with riverboats. The walls were palisade, and made of dark, timber wood. So, too, were the majority of the houses inside the city; tall, blackened cottages with narrow, slanted roofs. In general, Vardale had a dismal, rainy air to it, and the riverfront smelled always of that damp hanging thickness that followed a summery rain.

Now, the black-gray cobbled streets and the dark timber houses were covered in snow, and the riverfront smelled like sleet, not rain. Some low boats cruised along the rivers and underneath elaborately arched wooden bridges lined with lanterns; their wakes pulled gentle ripples on the blue-blacks of the cold river waters.

Anna found an inn and stabling for her horse, and put up in a dry, warm room that sat above the kitchen. She supped on some brown stew with mystery meat and some soft brown bread with warm butter, put some silver into the innkeep’s hand, and then went to her room. There was a bed stuffed with straw that the innkeep promised had no fleas in it. She found she much preferred it to the downy beds back at the Arenborg, though even that was better than huddling up in a blizzard. She curled herself under the covers and closed her eyes tight, and soon enough the heat from the ovens below and the smell of baking bread put her to sleep.

The morning was still dark when she rose. She felt well-rested, and the innkeep was serving a warm porridge of oats and milk. She did her morning grooming and left the inn feeling quite ready to tackle the day.

It was two more days’ riding before she came up on the far north end of the Springway, and the boulder that marked it. It was colder up here, but the clouds were fewer, and the sun shined intermittently. Anna thought back to six months ago, when she came to this stone going the opposite way, bound for Crystalwater, and a tournament she didn’t know she could win, and a job she didn’t know she wanted. She reflected on how things had gone both much better and much worse than she could have imagined from the last time she saw this rock. _“H_ _ere be the final resting place of the First King. May he find in death the peace he never knew in life_ _,”_ read the letters at its base. That was still curious: there was a Royal Cemetery, after all. But then, little and less was known of the eccentric King Andrew the Cold.

She wondered if the Anna of six months ago would have believed anything she had to say now. Probably not. Anna wouldn’t have bragged about it anyway. She thought about the queen and the look of terror in those blue eyes with all the world’s waters, rains, snows, and hails in them. _Maybe with this quest, things will be different._ She imagined laying her sword at the queen’s feet. _You don’t have to be afraid, Queen Elsa. Look, I’ve done it._ And Elsa would smile and draw a hand out of her glove that her knight may kiss her fingers.

Anna laughed out loud and shook her head. “Don’t be stupid,” she said. “Don’t be stupid.”

West she turned, into the setting sun, towards the green-white and dark line of the Rockwoods. It was a comforting sight, for Anna longed to be underneath the forest canopy, to let the sounds of the forest be with her. She thought of the sound of crickets at night and the chirping of birds by day, and the infinite buzz of the forest green, and found herself pushing her mare into a trot to get to the treeline faster.

When she passed into the shade of the trees, and the familiar speckled shadows of the canopy, a shiver forced her to squirm in her seat. It was only a slight twinge, one that made her twist, but she didn’t feel uncomfortable. She felt good to be here, here and not the Arenborg. Her heart thumped. The forest was mostly evergreens, tall and wide with many branches, some trees that had lost their leaves, and there was a layer of snow over all of it. This was the winter Anna knew and loved, the winter of the forest, where the snow was like a blanket that had draped over the land with soft, smooth intonation that, yes, now was the time to sleep, all of you animals go into your holes, all of you birds go on a tropic vacation – but this is a time for sleep, so sleep you shall, and just to enforce it, here is the snow, all white and soft, and if that doesn’t make you want to sleep, what will? And though it was cold, Anna loved nothing more dearly than that soft, sweet snow, with its numberless unique snowflakes, each one a labor of love by some nameless god of the winter, each one a special gift, a present, and though they all melted and were lost forever, they were, each of them, very, very special.

Into the white forest a ways and down the twisty path of snow-and-dirt she came upon some tracks and, soon after, happened upon the creator of the tracks, a slow-moving sled going the same way. For a moment her heart jumped, and she thought it might be Kristoff and Sven, but, no, it was an old hunchbacked man with a wispy gray beard mushing a pair of sturdy, old brown sled dogs. The sled was laden with cut timber planks.

As she passed him, she hailed him. The dogs woofed but they did not sound anxious or angry. They were very polite for dogs. The old man looked at her and nodded. “Aye, lass. Which way are ye goin’?”

“West, then north,” said Anna. Eventually this part of the trail would go by the Mud River, whence she could follow it until she came to a crossing.

“North? Not to the Gobwoods?”

“Yes, I am going to the Gobwoods.”

“Alack! I don’t know about that. The Gobwoods, you say? Och.”

“And you?”

“I’m bound for Burrowstown. Many a shipment into there lately, I tell you. Och. It’s too much work. Too much work. But the Lord Mayor pays well for all these supplies.”

Anna doubted that, but simply nodded at him. After a time keeping apace with the old fellow, and listening to him talk about nothing, Anna decided she had better get a move on, and said “I’d best be on, now, I’m in a hurry. Happy travels to you.” And she heeled her horse and went forward ahead of the rattling sled that sounded like Kristoff’s toboggan.

After some time riding, the bend of a river came into view on her right. When she rode up next to the bank, she took in the sight. It was, indeed, a very wide, slow-moving river, though it was not so brown as its name might have you believe. She could hardly see the bank on the other side. Impossible to ford here, but there were parts upstream where it was shallower and narrower and could be forded. Thus she turned her mare to the right and rode upstream.

The river, being a slow one, did not make a rushing sound so much as a splashing one. The water smacked itself against the riverside as Anna went, and otherwise the forest was quiet. Out in the waters of the river she saw, sometimes, a trout jump aloft and wiggle before descending back into the water.

Eventually the river narrowed out, and then it did become a rushing river, with some sharp rocks disrupting the gentle flows with their brazen insistences. A little further on, and the river was still narrow, but not so rushing, and Anna turned her mare at the water to test the depth. The horse protested at the coldness of the water, but Anna nudged her forward, and they went out into the calm water at the low point and found it did not pass the mare’s stomach when they were twenty yards out. The mare sulked as Anna forded the waters, careful to go slow in case of sharp rocks in the riverbed, and soon enough they were coming out of the water on the other side, the horse’s legs dripping. By now, the sun was on the west part of the sky, and they went into a clearing where a proud pine’s huge canopy had sheltered a needle-littered spot on the floor below from all trace of snow. Anna dismounted here, tying up the mare and going a ways away to find kindling and firewood. She returned shortly and cleared some pine needles away to set a place for a fire. She went to the riverside, got some river rocks and brought them back to create a circle. Then she put the wood into the circle and got some flint and steel from the saddlebags, and struck a blaze. The horse was half-enamored, half-afraid of the flames, and came close but not too close, and since they were warm, apparently decided that it was worth being near the erratic, wily dancing orange to be warm. Anna fed her a carrot, which she accepted with the reluctant cattiness that only a hungry horse can have.

“You are quite a brilliant horse,” Anna observed. “What will I name you?”

The horse didn’t have any suggestions, but looked at her with what almost seemed like intelligence, and after Anna had finished brushing the horse’s mane and adjusting the covers, she kicked off her boots and went into a leathery old sleeping roll, and was asleep.

The next morning, Anna cleared away the ashes of the fire and thought briefly if she should leave the circle there or if she should clear it away. Thinking about it, and realizing it would be no effort to just _do_ it, and she was wasting plenty of time pondering, she resolved not to and then untied her horse and mounted. It suddenly occurred to Anna that, now that she was on the right side of the river, she didn’t have a good idea of what to do or where to go next. She rode back to the river, looked about, and went back downstream, except this time on the river’s north bank.

Anna had total confidence in her horse’s sure-footedness, but nevertheless did not want to try the woods without some form of trail. It was much too easy to get lost and, even if she could find south again, it would still be a waste of time. So she decided to follow the river until a better option presented itself, in one way or another; if it failed to do so, then she would just need to brave the darkness of the woods proper. These were the Gobwoods now. They didn’t feel particularly different to her compared to the Rockwoods, but, well, she wasn’t one for knowing subtlety.

She had ridden downstream for the better part of an hour when something caught her eye. A pink tulip was peering out from between the spindly snow-covered leaves of a weed. Despite being ensconced by the plant, the flower was quite perfectly visible, and looked healthy, it had all its petals and everything. Perplexed, Anna dismounted and kneeled at the plant, clearing the snow off the weeds and pushing the leaves aside to see the tulip. It was very pink, and very petaled, and looked quite cozy among the weeds.

“How curious,” remarked Anna aloud to herself. Gingerly, she crouched and put a hand at the flower’s base, as if to pluck it. She closed her fingers around the stem and made to pull but stopped the motion suddenly when she heard a faint giggling noise.

“Hey! That tickles!” came a high-pitched, squeaky voice.

“W-What?” exclaimed Anna, and she snapped her hand back, looking wildly around. “Who’s there?”

“Down here, silly!” came the voice again. Anna blinked and turned to look at the tulip. It was wiggling, moving under its own power, swaying back and forth. “It’s me!”

Anna blinked several times, her mind temporarily blank. “The flower?” she asked dumbly.

“Yes, silly! The flower!”

“You’re… You’re talking to me?”

“Of course, silly! Who else would be talking? Your horse?”

“I don’t know,” said Anna. “I’ve never met a talking flower before.”

“You have now!” said the flower. It danced. “Were you going to pluck me?”

“Well, erm, yes. Well, I _was_ , but now I’m not sure I want to.”

The tulip giggled. “No, no! Pluck me! It’s all right!”

Anna stared at the tulip, and stood up, looking around, confused. She was still in the forest, and her horse was still there. Everything looked quite ordinary. Except, now that she looked, the surrounding trees had some odd thatching on them, as if someone had carved patterns into the bark. It was subtle, but Anna caught it.

She had taken a step in the direction of one of the trees when the tulip started squeaking at her. “Hey! Hey! Where are you going? Come pluck me.”

Anna turned to the tulip. “You… _want_ me to pluck you?”

“Yes! Please pluck me! It’ll be fun!”

Anna knelt at the flower again. “It won’t… _hurt_ you will it?”

“No, no! Flowers live to be plucked!” It giggled and danced.

Anna shrugged, casting an uneasy look at her horse, which was returned blankly. “Oh, well. Nothing ventured…” She reached out a hand, grasped the tulip by the stem, and yanked.

It wouldn’t come out. Blinking, Anna yanked again, harder. It stayed rooted.

“Aw, come on! Not like that!” It giggled maniacally.

Then, suddenly, there was pressure on all sides. It was like several tiny wires had come at her from all directions. There was a sudden wheeling, a spinning, and the next thing Anna knew, the world was upside down, the flower was on the ceiling and dancing. The ropes dug into her. The giggling from the nearby woods amplified, and soon she saw the entire world was laughing. Her horse whinnied, but two grubby little things came out of nowhere and patted its muzzle.

Anna struggled against her bindings, trying to reorient herself, trying to reach her sword – but it was no use. She was well and trapped. Then she was face to face with a hideous scowl, a visage like some kind of demon or monster, its face frozen in shock or horror or amusement – she couldn’t tell – its skin like dark bark, its features all gouges with red paint and leaf-rubbings.

It was a mask, and it sat on the face of a grubby little person-thing, slender but short, like a child, with skin like a mottle of teak and grass. It wore clothes of leaves tied all up together.

“Hello,” said the thing in the mask. Its voice was sweet and high-pitched, but boyish, with a curve of mischief in it. It sounded odd, like someone had taken an ordinary young boy’s voice and smashed it in the throat with a mallet.

It said nothing else. Anna stared at the mask. “Hello,” she said back uneasily. “Can you, um, help me down?”

“Haha,” the thing laughed. She felt a sharp pain in her neck, and then the world went black.

 

* * *

 

When Anna came to, she was lying down on a soft mound of fuzz. The sky was brown – no, that was just the roof of the tent. It was extremely warm. Anna’s brow was wet. She turned her head and noticed a mask staring down at her.

“Good afternoon,” said the mask.

Her memories rushed together. She tried to jump up and grab the thing, but found that her limbs wouldn’t respond. She tried again. Nothing. Anger swiftly yielded before fear, terrible and mortal panic. She tried again. No, the only part of her body she could move was her head. But she had feeling everywhere.

“Wh-What,” stuttered Anna, her heart bashing against the inside of her chest, her eyes locked on the red gouges in that mask, “wh-what a-are…” She didn’t even know what to ask. “Wh-who are y-you?”

“A friend,” said the mask. “Of the forest,” it added. “Not you.”

Anna blinked up at the mask. “Wh-what are… Why did…” She shook her head, clenched her teeth together, and shut her eyes tight. _Focus._ “What are you doing?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” said the mask. “So I will. What are you doing in our forest?”

“ _Your_ forest?” repeated Anna. “You mean… the Gobwoods?”

“What,” said the mask, “is a Gobwoods?”

“It’s the name of this forest?” asked Anna, suddenly unsure.

“No,” said the mask, very sure. It nodded. “This forest has no name that you or I know. You call it the Gobwoods. We call it the White Forest. But it is not the Gobwoods. It is not the White Forest. It just is.”

“O-Okay. I see,” said Anna, not sure she _did_ see.

“I think you do,” admitted the mask. “So. I’ll ask again. What are you doing in our forest?”

“I… I’m looking for something.” Anna tried to move again. No luck. A tack came to mind. “On the orders of Her Majesty Queen Elsa of Arendelle.”

“Haha,” tittered the mask. It shook a little. Anna noticed the mask was fringed all around with leaves, and on either side of it two long, pointy ears stuck out. “I’ve heard that one before.” The mask poked her cheek with a long brown finger. “You sure you’re not a poacher or a _lumberjack?_ ” The last word was said with such venom, Anna half-expected spittle to land on her face, but there was nothing but an odd chill as the little hairs on her neck stood on end.

“I’m not a poacher or a lumberjack,” said Anna. “Honest. I swear to you on my honor.”

“Your honor?” repeated the mask.

“My honor as a knight.”

“Haha. A knight.” The mask shook again with a soft rustling of leaves. “I wonder why humans think that’s so impressive. Being dubbed a non-liar by other liars.” The mask tittered. “It’s really very charming. Endearing, even. It would be, if you didn’t come and try to destroy our forests.”

She could feel the mask’s glare bearing down on her. “I… I’m not trying to destroy any forests! I swear!”

“I know.” The mottled hand went and pulled the mask back, and Anna didn’t know whether to recoil from the sight or not. Staring down at her was a face very much like a human’s, but so different in the details that it dropped her stomach into a prevailing sense of unease. It was all green, and perfectly smooth. The nose and mouth were very small, with hardly any lips, and the eyes – the eyes were enormous, wide but squinting and curved up at the ends, with no pupils but a spectrum of color, like juice or ink in a pool of milk. They seemed to glow with a dozen different hues that reminded Anna of the changing of the leaves, of river mud and scarlet birds, of rain and lightning. Its mouth curled into a grin filled with teeth that were all sharply pointed and small.

“What are you?” Anna couldn’t help asking.

“In your tongue,” it said, “I am goblin. In our tongue, I am makoki.”

“A goblin,” marveled Anna.

“You’ve heard of us,” stated the goblin – no, makoki. That seemed righter.

“A little,” said Anna. “From the trolls.”

The makoki’s smile faltered a little. “You know trolls?”

“I was raised by trolls,” said Anna slowly, watching for any sign of displeasure in the creature.

To her surprise, it laughed and grinned again. “Oh. Oh-hoho. Raised by trolls. Pity you weren’t raised by makoki. Trolls – they respect the forest, but they also respect humans. Pity. Trolls!” It laughed again. It jumped to its feet and kicked Anna sharply in the side. Anna winced. “Okay. Stand up. Sleep time is over.”

Slowly, Anna rose to a sitting position. She rubbed her side where the makoki kicked her. She looked at the makoki. “Am I free to go?” she asked.

“Free? Do you _feel_ free?”

Anna didn’t quite understand the question. “Um… No?”

The makoki smiled. “That has nothing to do with me. Not really your fault, I suppose. I’ve yet to meet a free knight. Or a free human, for that matter.”

She stood up on her legs, and tested her balance. Everything seemed to be working. The top of her head brushed the roof of the tent. She realized she was missing her cloak, and sword, and shield. And her ring and gloves. She looked down and noticed she was easily a foot-and-a-half taller than the makoki. “Where are my things?” she asked it.

“In due time,” it replied. “Come, come.” It exited out the flap of the tent, motioning with its finger for Anna to follow.

Anna opened the tent flap and stepped outside. A sudden blast of cold hit her and she shivered. The tent was so warm that exiting it gave her a shock, though the feeling dissipated soon enough. She looked around. Little tents like the one she had just left were scattered around a dark forest clearing – no, not a clearing. Overhead, an enormous leafy canopy shaded over all. Looking, Anna saw that the canopy was cast by a single, huge tree that still had its leaves. It was easily five times as tall as all of the other trees, and great and wide at the base. It gnarled the ground with long roots that snaked around the area, in between the various tents all colored brown and green like the forest. There was no snow here – the canopy sheltered all.

The makoki must have noticed her staring. “That’s a chiki tree,” it said. “You’ve never seen anything like it.”

“No, I haven’t,” confirmed Anna.

“Come, let’s look at it.”

The makoki moved up to the base of the tree, and Anna found herself following. The bark of the tree was pale brown and vertically ridged. It was hard to the touch, but felt smooth. Brilliant white leaves hung low on the ends of branches, wide like fans and glossy in the low light of the clearing.

“In the old days, trees like this were everywhere,” said the makoki. Despite its words, its tone didn’t sound remotely wistful, but rather sharp. Its eyes glowed orange, then red, then brown. It turned on Anna. “You have a name.”

“I think I do,” said Anna.

“You have something people call you by. That’s good enough. What is it?”

“Anna.”

“So it is. You may call me Makar.”

Anna bowed her head. “A pleasure, Makar.”

“Is it?” he questioned. “We’ll see. Before you woke, we had words with the horse you were traveling with.”

Anna blinked. “You… my horse?”

“Your traveling companion, yes,” said Makar, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “She had good things to say about you. It has been longer than I care to remember since any animal had any such good things to say about a human. That is why you are still alive, you see, and not hanging from the chiki tree.” Makar paused for a moment before continuing, “Most humans aren’t fool enough to cross the river any more. To be honest, I was relishing the hanging. But it seems the Earthmother brought you to us for another reason.”

Anna frowned, unsure of how to respond to the little one’s threats of violence. She was reasonably sure that he couldn’t be that strong, and that she could overpower him easily – but she didn’t have her sword or shield, and knew not how many other makoki could be watching. Come to think of it, she cast her eyes around the clearing – indeed, no other makoki seemed to be about.

“What other reason is that?” asked Anna, cautiously looking the little makoki in the eyes once more. They flashed gold and then green.

“To help us.”

“To help you? How?”

He stared back at her blankly, and then swiveled on his heels and marched away. “Come,” he commanded.

Anna followed again, suppressing the growing feeling of annoyance in her gut. Out of the corner of her vision, she thought she saw something move, and then another on the other corner of her vision. “Are you alone in this… village?” she asked.

“Alone? We’re all alone. But no, I am not the only one here.”

“Where are the others?”

“Where, indeed? They’re all around you. They are not seen if they don’t want to be.”

At last they came to a wide stump at the edge of the grove. It was surrounded by green grass and had a small brown knot on the top of it. Here, the wind seemed to whistle through the leaves of the chiki tree, the rustling of the branches becoming rhythmic, whorling with a queer, distant sense of music.

“Saria,” said Makar to the air. The knot on the stump became a lump, and then another makoki, its back turned to the two of them. Anna gaped in puzzlement. Her first thought was of the trolls, who could seem as like rocks in an instant whenever they chose.

Suddenly the whistling in the leaves was no longer faint and odd, but became a song, a real song, really musical and everywhere. It floated around Anna and pressed on her gently, a haunting melody, a tune, a tale of loss and longing, of grand simplicity and simple grandness, all now but a phantom, a sad remembrance. On the grass around the stump, now Anna noticed several small animals – squirrels, rabbits, mice, a crow – sitting on the grass, staring at the makoki in rapt attention.

The music stopped all at once. The makoki turned its head and looked at them. Its skin was dark red, and its eyes were glowing green in that moment – no, blue now. In its hands was a oblong blue shape, hollow with holes cut into it, and a long pipe at one end which the makoki held in its mouth. Slowly, it lowered the instrument.

“Makar,” replied the makoki on the stump. Its voice was like a breath of wind that barely seemed to touch the air, drifting extemporaneously around the clearing.

“I brought the human,” said Makar.

“I can see that.”

“So,” said Makar, “let’s get this folly underway.”

The makoki turned more fully on the stump, so that it sat facing Anna now. Its legs were crossed, and it cradled the blue flute gently in its hands. “Hello, human. Your horse is very fond of you.”

Again, Anna didn’t know what to say. She decided to just be honest. “I didn’t know that.”

The red makoki’s mouth curled down. “Humans are very bad at listening,” it said, as if it was admitting to some terrible truth.

“Communicating in general,” added Makar.

“What’s your name, human?” asked the red makoki.

“Anna,” said Anna. “What’s, erm, what’s yours?”

“You can call me Saria,” she replied.

Anna bowed her head. “A pleasure.”

Saria only smiled in response. Anna shifted from one foot to the other. “Makar mentioned that you needed something from me.”

“Yes,” said Saria, her eyes flashing teal, her smile dipping. “It is good fortune that you came to us when you did. These woods have been…” She paused. “Troubled, lately.”

“Good fortune,” echoed Anna. “Is that what we’re calling kidnapping, now?”

Saria only smiled. “That depends on what we’re calling trespassing.”

Anna pursed her lips and looked away. “Troubled, you say. How so?”

The smile was gone. “Something dark has come to this forest. Something foul.”

They both looked at Anna expectantly. “Something like what?” she asked.

Saria sighed and looked up. The sunlight streaming between the leaves dappled her smooth, red face, and reflected the orange in her eyes. “A long time ago, this forest was protected by countless spirits. In our tongue, they were kokiri – in your tongue, forest children. These kokiri owed their allegiance to the guardian of the forest. But then, one day, the guardian disappeared.”

“The _humans_ came,” said Makar.

Saria went on, “Just like that. The forest had no more guardian, and the kokiri… vanished.”

A wind lifted in the clearing, and the little animals around the stump all fled into the brush – except for the crow, who took wing and flew up to a branch on the white tree above. It cawed.

“But the forest went on,” said Saria. “It survived.”

“Survived?” mocked Makar. “The forest has only shrunk. It has shrunk and shrunk, and it is all thanks to the _humans_ – ”

“Makar,” said Saria in a sharp tone, and she glared at the green-brown makoki.

Makar glared right back. “I speak only the truth.”

“This forest was doomed from when the _guardian_ disappeared,” said Saria.

At that, Makar harrumphed bitterly, and he turned away and stomped off into the forest. Before seconds had passed, he was completely lost to Anna’s sight.

“Forgive Makar,” Saria said to Anna. “His soul is tormented by the past.”

Anna only nodded. She let a few moments of quiet pass before she realized Saria wasn’t going to say any more. “So. What does this have to do with… the now?”

“Yes,” said Saria, though she looked distracted. Saria’s fingers played with the flute in her little red hands. “Lately, this forest has felt… odd, to us. Odder than usual. Sick. Animals have started dying strangely, fleeing across the river. Trees have begun rotting to the root. It was like a disease was spreading. The center of it seemed to be in the deep part of the forest, once a holy place. So about two weeks ago, one of our number – called Fado – went into the deep part of the forest to investigate.” Saria paused. “She did not return. This brave crow – ” she nodded her head at the crow in the branches above “ – saw all that happened and flew here to tell us.”

The crow cawed.

“Fado has been captured,” said Saria, “by something foul, something the crow could not bear to be near for long. I don’t know what it could be, but something in my heart tells me it is… a demon. A demon that has finally come, now that our forest has no guardian.” She set her flute down on the stump beside her and clasped her hands together. “Oh please. I know you have no cause to love us. I know we poisoned and kidnapped you. But you must help us. You must go rescue Fado. We are so few left, and she is dear to us.”

Anna was momentarily at a loss for words. She had her own business to attend, after all. “I don’t know if I can,” she said finally.

Saria sighed audibly. “It _is_ a lot to ask, especially of a human.” She appeared to hesitate for a moment. “But… your horse tells us that you are exceptionally skilled at fighting, and a good and true person. We cannot fight a demon. You… you are our only hope.”

“No,” was what Anna wanted to say. It was what she _ought_ to say, surely. But the word did not come out of her mouth. How could she _really_ say no? To someone in need? Justifications sprung up in her mind like a million dandelions in spring, waving in the breeze and throwing out their cottony seeds like “why’s” and “why not’s.”

 _You can make things better for them,_ said a small voice in her mind. _Or at least, you can try._

“Do you really need my help?” was what she ended up asking.

Saria nodded.

Anna closed her eyes and took a knee before the stump. “Then you have my oath that I will bring Fado back to you, and quell whatever darkness has risen in this forest.”

When she lifted her head, she saw Saria staring back with eyes wide. “Really?”

“By my honor,” said Anna.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” came Makar’s voice over her shoulder. Anna looked back, and there he was, standing very close, though Anna swore she couldn’t have heard anyone approach. “Humans are so selfish.” He produced Anna’s sword and shield and laid them gently on the forest floor. “But the horse said you were different.” He produced Anna’s blue ring, swirling in its cloudy way. “These are yours.”

Anna took it up and accepted the ring last. “Humans are always putting magic _into_ things,” said Makar as he turned over the ring. His voice was low and quiet, barely above a whisper, contemplative. “So obsessed with what they can _touch_ and _feel_. Sometimes I pity them, sometimes I envy them. If you cannot see what you love, do you really love it? Was it ever even there?”

The crow squawked, and a wind rustled the leaves. A deafening silence pressed around them as Makar glanced up at Anna with a curious, searching look. “We will look after the horse, if you want. She will be safe here.” Makar gestured to the edge of the clearing, where the trees parted for a low dirt path that snaked out into the snow. “Follow the road and take the turns the forest tells you. Listen with your eyes and see with your ears. Please bring Fado back to us.”

Anna looked around the clearing. Saria was gone now, though her flute remained behind on the stump.

“Where is – ”

“Shh,” said Makar. “They are beyond words for the nonce. No human has ever offered us the kindness that you have.”

The crow quorked down at the makoki.

Anna slipped the ring onto her finger and the gloves on over it. She walked to the edge of the clearing, where the wind was stronger than ever. The crow alighted from its perch and swooped down to a branch on a tree beside the trail.

“Before you go,” said Makar from behind her, “you may ask me one favor. Payment for my mistrusting you.”

Anna looked at him. “May I ask a question?”

He inclined his head. “If you like.”

She had been thinking about a name for her mare. But she had no idea before, and less of an idea now that she knew she owed her life to the horse’s testimony. It changed the landscape for her.

“What is my horse’s name?”

He smiled widely. “Epona,” he said.

Anna turned back to face the trail. “That’s a pretty name,” she remarked, and stepped onto the trail. The wind died down. Anna turned back again – and nothing was there. No clearing, no tents, no Makar, just the trail, white and snaking off just as it was in front of her. The tall tree with the white leaves was gone.

“Thank goodness,” said the crow. “I was wondering if they would ever leave.”

Anna jumped about a foot. “You can talk!” she exclaimed at the crow.

“Of course,” said the crow, its voice sonorous and smooth. It said the words as if it was carefully pronouncing each one, though going very fast for it. “I’m not a monster, you know. All animals this side of the river can talk. But the makoki don’t like us talking to humans, you see, so they tend to get in the way. Well, personally I don’t see what’s so bad about humans. Oh, yes, they do tend to get a little bit crazy, nuts really, and I do mean that sincerely – quite nuts, always fussing about whom to kill and whom to bend their knees at, and who is allowed to get what, and when, and why, and for how long – but one must admit, they make pretty jewelry.”

Anna registered only the last bit of that completely. “Pretty jewelry?”

“Yes, collecting it is a bit of a hobby of mine, though I do tend to lose the jewelry once I find it, I enjoy the collecting but not so much the hoarding – so I am not very much of a collector, to be honest. Still, though, I know good shiny things when I see them, and good shiny things are made by humans.”

Anna was so put off by the novelty of the talking crow that she absurdly found herself taking it on the level. The day had become so surreal that it seemed almost to turn in on itself, and become normal again. “Isn’t collecting jewelry a magpie thing?” she asked.

“You wound me. Many magpies collect shiny things, yes, but I do, too. In fact I consider myself something of a _connoisseur._ That’s Lutetian, you know. The language, I mean. I picked it up from a robin once. Charming fellow, really, but what an accent! I could understand perhaps one word in ten. _That_ was one of them. I decided I rather liked it. Oh, but I do go on. Haven’t you got a demon to slay? Perhaps I’ll go with you.”

The crow swooped down and perched on Anna’s shoulder. She did not swat it away, and it twitched its head at her. “That is, if you don’t mind,” it added.

“You talk a lot,” observed Anna.

“Well, I have a lot to say!” said the crow. “Imagine only talking to birds all day. Birds! Now, I don’t mind birds. Some of my best friends are birds. But, they make rather poor conversation day-in, day-out. And the makoki – well, you met them. Humans, though. I rarely get to talk to humans. I admit I really am fascinated by you lot. Still, I am sorry if I annoy you. Shall I introduce myself? I think I shall. I know you. You are Anna. A knight, is it? Charmed, I’m sure. _Ser_. My name is Kaepora.” It puffed out its chest. “Kaepora Gaebora. And don’t you forget it! Well, you can if you want. I won’t mind if you do forget it. I can remind you very easily what my name is if you do. I only need to say the words. Kaepora Gaebora, that is. See? Now that’s twice that I’ve said it, so you shouldn’t forget it any time soon. Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s away! Into the forest! Over the river and through the woods, to the demon’s lair we go! Do you like that? I heard it from an Albionese pigeon once. He would _not_ stop singing it. He rather much liked to sing. Damn pity he got wrapped up in that business with the vultures. Damn pity.”

Anna nodded vacantly and started on down the trail, while the crow kept talking about this and that, from the color of the leaves to the color of snow to the dismal weather lately to the well-isn’t-it-nice-that-the-sun-is-shining. Anna tuned it out in some respect, and honestly the crow wasn’t bad company, though it did talk quite a _lot_ , its voice did not grate, nor did it even make Anna weary to listen to it. Soon enough, it calmed down into quietude, and alighted from Anna’s shoulder to follow from branch to branch, occasionally vanishing up through the canopy before coming back under.

They went on until the crow came back under the canopy after another high-up sojourn and said, “I say! You don’t seem to be much of a talker, Ser Anna. What’s the matter? Has the cat got your tongue?”

“I just don’t have much to say,” said Anna with a shrug.

“Oh, now that’s silly. I’m sure you have much to say. Just looking at your eyes, I can tell you’re always thinking about something. Well, why not say it out loud?”

“Not everything needs to be said out loud,” said Anna.

“Well, perhaps,” the crow said thoughtfully, and paused. They passed into a small clearing with four large trees around the edge. “Careful!” warned the crow suddenly. “Stop!”

Anna halted on a dime and looked around. “What is it?” she asked.

“Look at these trees,” said the crow, and it went to a branch and gestured a wing at the trunk. “Look at these markings.”

Anna looked. It had narrow crosshatchings wrought in a dark brown color along the face of the lighter timber of the bark. It looked similar to the tree she saw back when she had been trapped by the net. “Yes, I see them. What of them?”

“You _do_ see them? Good. It takes a trained eye to see them. Well, now, these markings indicate that there’s a trap here, you see. A makoki trap. They always make traps to catch the unwelcome. They are very good traps, elaborate and – well, you cannot see the mechanism so easily. That’s the forest’s business. Anyway, I suspect this clearing is a trap. Perhaps you should go around?”

Anna backed out of the clearing slowly and went around. “Thanks,” she told the crow.

“Don’t mention it, although I doubt the trap was anything to worry about.”

“What do you mean?”

“These are traps to catch the _unwelcome,_ and you,” said the crow, “are not unwelcome. Anymore.”

They found the trail again and continued on until they came to a fork split by a tall birch tree.

“Which way?” Anna asked the crow.

“Why are you asking me? Ask the forest.”

Anna frowned and rotated her head around the forest, all white snow and green and very much deserted of animals or apparent answer-providing life. Tentatively, she raised her voice and said, “Which way?” to the forest at large.

There was no response.

“That didn’t work,” said Anna.

“Only because you are not listening,” scolded the crow.

Anna tried to open her ears and focus, but there were no sounds except the soft sigh of the wind and the occasional rustling of crow-feathers.

“Not like that,” said the crow. _“Listen.”_

“I can’t hear anything,” said Anna, annoyed, and she looked down. The snow was a thin film on the trail, and some little white mice were scurrying through the snow, across the trail and up to the right side of the path, where they vanished into some unseen hole.

“Only because you aren’t listening,” said the crow. “Remember what that grumpy makoki told you?”

Anna just went on watching the mice scurry into their hole. When they were all gone, she looked up and sighed.

“I thought it was obvious,” said the crow. “I suppose humans aren’t so used to obvious, though. The forest likes to show its answers, good ser. If you want to see an answer, you really have to listen hard with those eyes.”

Anna looked at the mouse hole. “The mice…? They were going to the right.” She looked down the path to the right. It was identical to the one on the left. “So is that where I’m supposed to go?”

“Only if you think the mice were going _towards_ this forest’s dark heart,” said the crow.

Anna turned her head to the left. “I think I see now.” She started walking.

The crow sighed dramatically. “Oh, the mice are so much wiser than us. Three blind mice; three blind mice; see how they run!”

“There are only two of us,” said Anna.

“If you say so,” said the crow.

They walked until the sun was going beneath the horizon, and the forest was replacing its greens with blacks for the coming of the night. Along the way, Anna had noticed that some trees were blackened and withered, and the sounds of the forest had become nothing at all. There were no winterbirds at their calls, nor the chattering of errant beasts nor early-risers awaiting the coming spring. It was a silence even greater than the silence of forest winter. It was a deep silence, as of a sleep that one is unsure to wake from.

When they passed the blackened carcass of what had once been a proud pine, Anna turned to the crow and asked, “Kaepora, you saw the demon, right?”

“Yes,” said the crow stiffly.

“What was it like?” asked Anna. “Can you say?”

A long pause stretched before the crow said, “Well, I’m not so sure. Thinking back, I can’t quite remember what it looked like. Only that it put an awful fear into me. I swear I can remember it looking at me. Its eyes were blue. Very blue. And then it sniffed the blood and – ” The crow stopped.

“And?” urged Anna, when the crow still didn’t speak several moments later.

“The blood changed it somehow. I remember a feeling, like a ripple burst out from it, like it went into me, like I could _feel_ …” The crow shivered and flew off.

“Kaepora?” called Anna, stopping. “Kaepora?”

Only silence returned her calls. “What the devil has gotten into him, I wonder?” said Anna to herself.

The trees were thinning out by the time the trail grew unsnowy. She passed around another group of trees with the cross-hatched trunks, and gingerly stepped around and down a short slope that tumbled into a wide clearing. The rising of the moon filled the clearing with a white light, at the center of which was a small gray edifice. It was a structure made of stone, rectangular and imposing, with a heavy door slightly ajar.

Anna approached it carefully, ready to draw her sword if need be. The sky was clear – there were no clouds, only the blowing of the wind and the moon’s restless glow.

She stood a few feet from the cracked-open door when she heard it: a long, tinny, echoing noise, as of a wail or a cry, that seemed to emanate from the structure itself. She suppressed a shiver and grasped the door by its open end. She pulled.

With a groan, the door opened and a foul wind blew from within the structure, causing Anna to wince against the stench of hundreds of years of dust and decay. The wailing was more audible now.

“Hello,” came a voice from above her.

Anna’s head snapped up, and there, on top of the structure, huge and white with eyes blue and cold, was the white wolf called Aren.

“You,” said Anna breathlessly. Part of her relaxed; part of her did not. The longer she looked, the tighter her chest became. Aren was smiling with her eyes.

“Me,” said Aren. “It’s been a while, Anna, Sword of Autumn. But you do not call yourself that any more – do you? No – you are a knight now. Knight of Crystalwater.” The wolf cocked its head interestedly. “Lady Protector,” it whispered.

“I am looking for a demon,” said Anna, making her voice loud so to stay the odd shivers she got from looking at the wolf. “Perhaps you know. And a missing makoki.”

“A demon _and_ a makoki?” said Aren, amused. “Isn’t that like saying a tree _and_ a plant?”

“What do you mean?”

“Only that makoki are not what they were, and no less a demon than me,” said Aren wryly. “Since we’re name-calling and all.”

Anna had no time for more games. The wailing had grown fainter. “Maybe so. I am still looking for a makoki by the name of Fado. And her kidnapper. Would you know anything about that?”

Aren seemed to consider that. “Yes,” she said. “I know Fado. She is inside this crypt. You should go and get her.”

Anna raised a wary eyebrow. “I will, then,” she replied, slowly. “Thank you for your help.”

“Oh, no. Thank you,” said Aren. “You have said quite a few prayers in my name, my Sword of Autumn. I have not had a shrine maiden as devoted as you since…” The wolf paused. “Well, _ever_ , really. I’m very grateful.”

Anna simply dipped her chin in acknowledgement and stepped into the threshold of the gray structure, out of sight of the wolf.

“One more thing,” came Aren’s voice. “Draw your sword and shield.”

Anna did.

Inside the structure, the smell of rot was more palpable than it was outside. A sheer set of stone stairs, dark with walls of dirt and rock, shot down into pitch. Struggling not to gag, Anna descended the steps one at a time. The air was warmer the further down she went, and the steps seemed to go on forever. Though she could barely see, she had no trouble knowing exactly where the next step was, every time; and the wailing was definitely coming from down in the black pits – though it grew fainter as she descended, there was no mistaking its origin.

Her feet found solid ground suddenly, and her stomach jumped when she made to descend another step but found only flat ground. A single torch suddenly guttered into light at the end of a long hall. Anna went to it; it was sconced above a heavy oaken door banded with iron with a single gray iron pull. The wailing was gone by now. Anna pulled on the ring with her shield hand. The door groaned and opened with some protest, knocking dust and dirt loose.

She entered and found herself in a large, round room with walls of dirt and carved stone. The carvings were nonsensical symbols and illustrations of fantastic beasts, but that was not what caught Anna’s attention. In the center of the room, an old, gray tree with waxy white leaves and twisty roots was planted. The floor of the room was scattered with withered leaves that had evidently fallen off of the tree – and recently. It looked like an old chiki tree, but older than the one in the makoki grove – frailer, somehow.

Small wonder. How could it get any sunlight down here?

A faint voice drifted down from the leaves. “Hey. Who are you?” It sounded weak. Despite the subterranean environment, Anna found she had no trouble seeing. It was as though light was coming from the tree. From the leaves. Pale, milky light, like moonlight.

Anna craned her neck to peer into the leaves. Hanging amongst the thick branches was a small wooden cage with a little makoki inside, its skin the color of summer grass, its eyes black puddles of ink. It was trembling and clutching the bars of its cage, leaning against them while it stared down at Anna.

“Who are you?” croaked the makoki again.

“I’m Anna,” said Anna, rushing up so that she stood beneath the cage. It was swaying a good fifteen feet above her head. “Are you Fado? I’ve come here to save you.”

“I am Fado,” came the voice, and the makoki blinked wearily. “Save me?” it repeated.

“Yes. Saria and Makar sent me to find you.”

A high-pitched whine came from the cage. Anna realized that the makoki was sobbing. “Oh, I knew the gods didn’t abandon us. I knew our deliverance would come. What ancient spirit do you serve, noble angel? Are you perhaps an envoy of Hokoto, from the star-kissed trees of silvyrwyd? A water-walker? A sky spirit? Nevermind; oh, frabjous day, a spirit has come to save me.”

Anna stared up at the crying makoki, a feeling of bewilderment overpowering her. “Uh… I’m sorry, but… I’m not a spirit.”

Fado sniffed. “Y-You’re not?”

“I’m a human,” said Anna.

Fado leaned against the bars of the cage, as if it was trying to get a better look at Anna. “A human?” it echoed. “Why would a human save me?”

“You’re in trouble,” Anna said simply. “Aren’t you?”

Fado said nothing to that, and merely swung in her cage. After a long silence, she said, “Yes. Please help me. I’m so weak.”

Anna nodded and looked around. Now, how did she get Fado down from up there? Anna went up to the tree’s trunk, seeing if there was any purchase she could use to climb. But it was no luck – no branches hung that low. The lowest were still a few feet above her head. Jumping, she had no hope of catching it. She paced around the tree, looking for anywhere else she could dig in and climb. But no – the tree was hard ridges and no chips all around. If she had a rope, she might be able to do something, but she didn’t.

After her fifth circuit around the base of the tree, she called up to Fado, “This may take some time. I don’t know how to get you down.”

Fado groaned and turned around so her back was resting against the bars. She didn’t say anything.

“Sorry,” called Anna. “I should have come prepared.”

There was a loud snorting grunt.

“Well there’s no call for that,” Anna said in a low voice, mostly to herself. “I’m doing the best I can.”

Her reflection was interrupted when she felt a sharp, hard _THWACK_ hit her in the back of the head and she tumbled forward, barely maintaining her footing, though the throbbing in her head shot streaks of red through her vision. She whirled sharply and saw it – them, actually.

A curved bar of orange-and-blue wood rippled through the air to be caught by a short little creature, a gremlin of sorts, a little taller than a makoki, with a sharp, angular gray-green face and a head like a snout. He flipped the boomerang in his hands and grinned crooked, sharp teeth. He wore a tattered leather jerkin. Standing at his side was a similar-looking though much-taller beast with piggish, almost bullish features and a scowl, its thick arms grasping the pole of a long spear with a jagged end. It was easily eight feet tall and it wore a heavy suit of black leather armor. It snorted its big nose and bared sharp fangs.

“Who are you?” Anna asked them, and she readied her sword and shield.

Fado was swinging wildly in her cage. “Moblins!” she cried.

The tall piggish one made no reply. It snorted, leveled its spear, and charged.

It was all Anna could do to dodge the charge. The pig bulled past her and wheeled sharply on its heels, thrusting the shaft of the spear sideways at Anna. She met the shove with her shield and thrust with her sword. The pig snorted and jumped back, away from the thrust.

The whistling of the boomerang came again. Before Anna could react, another sharp _THWACK_ bashed her in the back of the skull, and she reeled again. She forced her eyes open, though they were streaming with tears. She saw the point of the spear coming at her. She maneuvered her shield and the spear scraped off to the side.

She jumped back several steps, scrambling so that she had line-of-sight of both the monsters. The pig thing leveled its spear to charge again – but this time, Anna kept her eyes on the smaller one.

The charge came, and Anna jumped to the side, avoiding the tip as the pig crashed into the wall behind her. She jerked her head up at the little one and saw the boomerang leave its fingers. She met it with her shield. With a clang, it clattered harmlessly to the ground. Anna dove for the short monster, sword arm outstretched – and with eyes as wide as saucers, it impaled on the end of her sword, thick black ooze pouring from its wound. It vaporized in a puff of black smoke.

Anna spun just as the pig charged again. She jumped aside, rolling through the dirt, and resumed her feet again, just as the pig came again. This time, he got her – her shield took the spear, but the force of the blow sent her flying. She dropped her sword and fell, painfully, on her back.

She stood up again, and the pig thing laughed. It was a terrible, croaking noise, like two dry pieces of timber rubbing against each other and cracking apart. Her sword was at the pig’s feet. He kicked it away. But at _her_ feet – there was the boomerang! Without thinking, she picked it up and, screaming, threw it at the pig with all her might.

Its triumphant grin changed to one of horror in an instant, and froze like that when the boomerang thwacked its face. And then it was completely still, like a statue, unmoving except for its tiny little eyes that were now darting this way and that.

The boomerang loyally came back, and Anna caught it without thinking. She stuffed it into her sword belt and walked over to where the pig had kicked Autumn, keeping her eyes trained on him the entire time. He did not move, though his eyes followed her.

She picked up her sword, and went up to the pig. He still didn’t move.

“Magical boomerang, huh?” she asked him. Of course, he did not reply.

She stabbed him through the gut, twisted, and drew her blade out in a slashing motion. Black blood oozed out, and instants later, the whole thing – armor, spear, and all – dissolved into black and purple mist that dissipated quickly into the air.

Fado’s cage was still swinging. Her jaw hung open. “That was… you… those were _moblins_ ,” she said incredulously.

Anna sheathed Autumn and put up her shield. She pulled out the boomerang. “What’s a moblin?” she asked.

“A creature of the forest,” said Fado. “A dark creature. _Not_ like us makoki.”

Anna nodded. “Hang on,” she told Fado, and threw her boomerang at the thin rope that tied the cage to the branch above it. The rope snapped as the boomerang sliced through it, and the whole thing came crashing down, the cage snapping open as it did. Fado crawled from the wreck.

“Are you okay?” asked Anna. “I hope the fall didn’t hurt too much.”

“Not the fall,” said Fado, groaning. “It was just a fall. I just need air.”

Anna sheathed the boomerang and knelt down. “Can you walk?”

Fado gave it a noble try, but failed. “No,” she said meekly.

Anna reached down and cradled Fado in her arms. She was light, surprisingly light, and it was not much effort to carry her. She hefted the makoki gently, and made for the exit from the room. She swore the white tree rustled its leaves as she left.

After a long climb in the dark, Anna emerged with Fado in her arms into the moonlight of the clearing. She took a few steps away from the gray structure’s exit before she heard a growl from behind.

Aren was still sitting on top of the little gray structure. “So, you found her,” the wolf observed placidly, her bushy white tail flopping up and down.

“Yes,” said Anna uneasily. “She was in a cage, and being guarded by two,” she paused for a moment, “demons.”

“There’s that word again,” said Aren. She bared her teeth. “It seems everyone is at liberty to call everyone else in this forest _demons_.”

And then Fado lifted a trembling finger, pointed at Aren. _“Her,”_ she said. “That’s the demon.”

Anna felt her pace quicken. “Fado? What do you mean?”

“She’s the one who…” Fado trembled in Anna’s arms. She buried her face in Anna’s tunic and clutched at her with both hands. “Don’t let her do it again. Please. She’s the one, the demon – ”

Aren laughed loudly, a piercing, mocking cry. “This is a forest of demons, my dear Fado. You, me, the moblins. The very trees themselves. Tell me, Fado, though I know you know this already – what is the difference between a spirit and a demon? Why, a demon is merely a spirit without a home. Where is your home, Fado?”

“The forest,” Fado whispered into Anna’s shirt. “The forest.”

Aren seemed to have no trouble hearing that, because she laughed again. “Oh, Fado. This forest has no spirits, and it is not your home. It is nobody’s home. It is dead. It has been dead as long as I’ve been dead. The last of the kokiri, running around a dying forest, pretending to be spirits when really they’re nothing more than bottom-feeding demons.” She looked at Anna. “The makoki, you know. Didn’t tell you that, did they? What is a forest without its guardian? Dead. A dead forest has no spirits – only ghosts and demons.”

“Shut up,” said Fado quietly.

“Oh, Fado. Perhaps when the last leaf falls from the last tree, maybe then you’ll understand. Until that day comes, we are only the dead who refuse to die.”

Anna’s heart was pounding. “Aren, are you the darkness that plagues this forest?”

Aren considered that. “I suppose I am.”

“You used to be the guardian of this forest,” stated Anna.

“Used to be,” emphasized Aren.

“What happened?”

“I met a human.” Aren’s eyes bored into Anna’s.

“Not… _me?_ ” asked Anna.

“Not you,” said Aren. “This was a long time ago. A very long time ago.” Her tail swished.

“One of the makoki said that the darkness only started spreading recently,” said Anna steadily, keeping her gaze fixed on the wolf. “So what changed?”

Aren swished her tail. “My orders.”

Silence fell on the clearing. Anna and Aren stared at each other unblinkingly.

“I swore an oath to the makoki that I would kill you,” said Anna at length.

“That’s too bad,” said Aren. “I have no intention of fighting you. You are my shrine maiden, after all – though I do not have a shrine, and I know not if you are a maiden.”

Anna laid Fado, still whimpering, gently on the ground, then stood up and drew her sword. “You won’t fight me?”

“No,” said Aren simply, and she swished her tail. “You made a promise to the makoki. They are demons. And oathbreakers. How much can your promise really matter to them? Who cares?”

“I do,” said Anna hotly, and she jabbed the end of her sword in Aren’s direction. “I don’t care if the makoki are oathbreakers or demons. That’s their own lookout. But _I_ made an oath, and I will keep it.”

The wolf shrugged, if such a gesture were possible for wolves. “Well, you can try. But I will not fight you.”

“I’ll stop killing for you,” Anna warned.

“No you won’t,” said Aren, now sounding mightily amused.

Anna gritted her teeth and looked down. Fado was curled into a ball, and shivering. For the first time, Anna noticed the wounds on her arms – cuts and gashes, now mostly healed, but the scars were still clearly visible. Anna clenched and unclenched her left hand. She looked at it as an idea struck her.

“Why did you attack Fado?” asked Anna.

The wolf shifted the arrangement of its paws. Uncertainty flickered across the pale blue eyes, though the wolf said nothing.

“You don’t even know why,” marveled Anna. “You just attacked her for no reason.”

“That’s not so,” said Aren. “She… she was bleeding…”

 _Wild at the sight of blood._ Anna tore the glove off her left hand and lifted it. She put Autumn’s edge firmly against her palm, and slashed. Bright and dark red splashed across the blade and down her arm and onto the forest floor. She thrust her palm at Aren.

“You went crazy. She was bleeding and you went crazy. You attacked her even though she was harmless to you. Well. You can attack me too, now. _Fight me._ ”

Aren made a low growling noise that turned into a snarl. Her hair bristled on end, her ears sprung up, and she stood on the tips of her paws. “N-No,” roared the wolf. She howled at the moon. “I DON’T WANT TO.”

Without another word, she leapt off the crypt, and for a second her silhouette was painted black across the face of the moon. Anna turned and ran, into the forest, as fast as she could move; hot on her heels was the pursuit of the huge, white wolf.

She knew not what impelled her forward, nor how she kept ahead of the wolf, all she knew was that she had to keep running. Trees flew by, her feet sprung into and out of ruts and mounds and in between roots and plants with unerring accuracy. Up a slope she went, in leaps and bounds, and then she saw it – the trees with the crosshatching. She dashed between them, the moon shining down, and she jumped into the brush on the other end. _Aren’s unwelcome, the trap will –_

It did not spring. Aren stood in the middle of the trap trees now.

Anna’s mind burned. _Why didn’t the trap spring? How does it spring?_

Hard she looked at the trees, and then – she saw. The forest answered her. It was so clear, every invisible wire, every manipulation, every perturbation in the branches and leaves.

She threw down her sword and snatched up the boomerang and, with a snap of the wrist, let it fly. Up and up it flew, into the canopy, whipping through the leaves, snapping the invisible wires and –

Aren was trapped. The net came from everywhere, smooth and silver rope that bound Aren to the forest floor. She snarled, her head snapping every which way, her jaws working at the rope – but they did not fray or give.

Anna emerged from the brush, and stood over Aren’s defeated, prone form. She stared up with icy eyes.

“I am done,” said the wolf. “You will kill me, now.”

Anna looked at her sword. “Yes,” she agreed.

The wolf seemed to sigh. She stopped snarling, and shuddered no more. She was still. “I was lost. You have no idea what this burden has been to me. For so long, I kept it down, but now it… I… I tried so hard to keep it down. But it came up like bile – and the _blood_. You can’t believe I meant to hurt Fado, or any of them. It’s all my fault. And I _failed_. _You_ … you made me feel like a god again.” The wolf shuddered. “It’s finally over,” she said quietly, and closed her eyes. “Release me.”

When Anna hesitated, the eyes snapped open. “Everybody dies, Anna, Sword of Autumn. I’m not afraid. My _home_ waits for me.”

Autumn quivered as Anna wiped it clean in the snow. The wolf’s eyes were cold and unseeing. _Look at us now,_ was the sword’s thrum, morbid and morose. Anna sheathed Autumn and put up her shield, and then noted the dried blood on her hand. The wound had closed already, and her blue ring warbled in the moonlight.

And just then, the wolf’s body seemed to melt and vanish into the snow-covered ground, melting away the drifts and seeping into the stiff, buried grass below. Before long, naught was left of the wolf but a vague sense of warmth, and in the clear spot, a pale, yellow glow shone out, bright and fierce. Anna shielded her eyes until the glow died, and then she saw, where the wolf had been, a small golden fragment, jagged and hard, rough like a shard of a golden obsidian plate. It glowed with a light all its own power, as if it had been carved out of the sun itself.

Anna understood immediately what it was.

She extended her arms carefully and cradled the shard in her hands. As she held it, a warm humming filled her ears, an ethereal, wistful noise; and then it was as if the entire forest was humming, and swaying, and singing at her. Though she saw with her eyes only the white death of a forest in winter, it sang as definitely as anything.

“The third blind mouse,” said the crow reproachfully.

Anna looked up at him. “Kaepora. Where did you get off to?”

“I couldn’t bear to see my queen beheaded,” said the crow sadly, and it flew down and settled on the snow. It fixed its tiny black eyes on the golden shard. “Well, now, isn’t that something?”

“I think this is what I came here for,” Anna told the crow. “I think I was meant to do this, to come here and kill Aren.”

“Meant? By whom?” asked the crow.

“I don’t know,” said Anna. “But it just feels _right._ ”

“Well,” said the crow carelessly, “it is certainly very pretty to look at.”

Anna carefully wrapped her fingers around the shard and, with Kaepora flying close behind, made her way down to the clearing. It was as it was before, except now, Fado was nowhere to be seen – and sitting on the top of the gray stone structure was Saria, playing a soft melody on her flute.

When she saw Anna approach, she put the flute down and smiled.

“I followed you,” said Saria, still smiling. “I had to see the demon for myself. I had a hunch, but I – I did not want to believe our guardian had betrayed us.”

“You were the kokiri,” blurted Anna. “The forest children. The humans told stories about you.”

Saria nodded. “We were, yes. Once this forest had a guardian and we were the caretakers. The day the guardian disappeared is the day we changed. A race of tricksters and glamorers. Forest spirits in name only.” Her smile was sad now.

Anna hesitated. “Now that Aren is dead… what will happen to the forest?”

Saria jumped down from the structure, and walked over to Anna calmly, her small red form seeming to shift effortlessly across the ground. She held out the flute.

“Take this,” she commanded.

“Your flute?”

“When the forest was dead, I needed this flute to speak for it,” said Saria, as the wind blew between the trees and rustled the leaves with its familiar galing. “But the forest is alive now. Can’t you see it?”

The crow squawked.

Anna tentatively picked the flute out of Saria’s hands, and held it gingerly with the tips of her fingers. She looked at it. “I can’t play the flute,” she said, and looked up – but Saria was gone once more.

“Well,” said Kaepora Gaebora, “it’s not so hard once you get the hang of it – but then, the getting the hang of it is pretty hard. Or so I’ve heard. I can’t play flutes, you see. No lips or fingers. I can whistle, though. Do you want to hear my favorite song?” Without waiting for an answer, Kaepora whistled a rapid, chirping melody, and then alighted and flew away into the black sky.

Out of the trees came Anna’s horse, laden with saddlebags. It looked quite pleased, for a horse.

Anna smiled and went up to the mare. “Epona, huh?” she said and patted the horse’s head. It neighed in response.

 


	16. The Frog King

 

A sense of measured jubilation greeted Anna in the queen’s solar; it became hushed awe when Anna withdrew the drawstring pouch that was hanging around her neck, parted the opening, and produced the little glowing shard that was all that remained of the guardian of the forest.

“This is it,” said Queen Elsa with a firm nod in Hans’s direction. She smiled – really, truly smiled. “This is a shard.”

And the approving look the queen gave Anna would have made her stomach turn, but for some reason it only annoyed her, and she stayed annoyed through the debrief and the briefing.

“A giant wolf,” marveled Hans as he stroked his jawline. “I trust that was interesting.”

“Yes,” said Anna curtly.

“The next piece _ought_ to prove less difficult to obtain,” Hans said, steepling his fingers. “By the same means we used to locate the first, we have determined the second is relatively close by.”

“Indeed,” said Elsa, and now she was not even bothering to contain her beam. “At this rate we should have found all the pieces before summer’s end.”

“And that will be the end of this snowstorm, will it?” said Anna dryly.

Uncertainty flickered across Elsa’s face, but she said, “If the gods are good, yes.”

“And the gods are indeed good,” said Hans. “The Golden Power _is_ theirs, after all.”

On the map he indicated a small stretch of swamp, curled into the canyon lowlands that separated the Vestlandet from the dale. “The Toadsmarsh is another place that men don’t go,” said Hans.

“I heard mention of it once or twice,” said Anna, “though I know little about it.”

“It’s an old marsh,” said Elsa, leaning over the map and speaking with hushed, reverent tones. Her voice was lifted by a definite note of optimism, of quiet enthusiasm and admiration, and as she spoke an unquenching eagerness betrayed her extensive knowledge. The shimmer in her eyes told Anna that Queen Elsa was a woman who read the book on her country from cover to cover. It was the excited shimmer of knowledge and longing.

“The marsh is said to be home to a race of frog-like people,” she went on, “called the oglins. They live in subterranean palaces and, many years ago, were friends of the Ice Queen. Unlike goblins and trolls and the rest, the existence of oglins is well-documented, and Ser Hiccough met them personally on several occasions. Before King Andrew put an end to the other crowns in Arendelle, the oglins had their own king, whom they dubbed the Frog King. But when King Andrew took the throne, the Frog King laid aside his title and pledged his fealty.

“We don’t collect taxes or raise levies from the oglins, nor do we oft-communicate with them; but according to the old laws, at least, they are bound to heed you if you come to them in the name of the queen. I believe, also, that given their close association with the Ice Queen, they will know where the second piece is to be found. It might even be that they have it, in which case it will be no trouble to ask it of them.”

Anna nodded slowly through all this explanation, then asked, “And how am I to penetrate this swamp, Your Grace? Do you know of a boater or a guide that could help me?”

“Smallfolk live around the marsh’s perimeter and in the lagoons close to the fjord,” said Hans slowly. “It may be that you could enlist aid from one such to guide you into the swamp. But given the Toadsmarsh’s reputation, you might find that difficult.”

“Reputation?” Anna frowned. “From what the queen has said, the swamp does not seem like such an ill place.”

Elsa hesitated. “Well… some folk believe that the swamp is dangerous. Not because of the oglins, mind – most people never see them. But because of _other_ things.”

“As you say,” said Anna. “I will find some way to make it through.”

Queen Elsa smiled with her entire face. “You have done well, Ser Anna.”

It was exactly the kind of validation she was hoping for. Well, then why did it make her feel so foul?

Martin had performed, it had been said, admirably in his station as interim castellan, though some grumbled at his youngness. Martin himself was humble about it, and only said that he was trying to do all he could, and apologized for any shortcomings in his performance. Anna told him not to worry about it, nor mind the grumblings; he was 14-years old next month, and on the whole the men-at-arms and castle knights and squires spoke well of him. Ser Puck said so much, gushing as he sat across from Anna in the dining hall.

“Ser Anna, I must admit I’m growing quite fond of your squire. Never have I met such a devoted youth!”

“He has a good heart,” Anna said simply.

“And a good head. Never mind his skills with bow and arrow – you know that he has been diligently pursuing an education in letters? For a few months now. With Master Kai’s help. The past few weeks he’s been attempting to digest Helvetian tomes on the old wars. Like the Helvetian conquest of Gallica. Have you ever read that?”

“No,” said Anna. “I know not much of war.”

“Nor do I, but it’s a cracking good read,” said Ser Puck as he ripped apart a loaf of bread.

“You read much?” Anna asked him.

“Not so much as I used to, but, you know, I was a ward at Westfal, and Ser Hunter – the Reading Knight, some called him – believed very much in the power of letters. I see his point. Gallica was conquered by a single general with a small army, and we only have the old boy’s reflections to go by for how he managed it.” He washed down a bite of bread with some ale, and then continued. “Anyway, your squire. I think he has a good head for the position. There’s been grumbling, though.”

“There always is,” said Anna blankly.

“Hmm, well, I meant by Ser Tazmus and Lord Hugoss.”

“Really? What do they say?”

“Ser Tazmus just trotted out the old line that the boy is too young. Says it should have been him – now, mind you don’t go repeating I said that, of course he’ll just deny it, and then probably fillet me for good measure. And Lord Hugoss is suspicious of everything that has your hand in it.”

“I should like to talk to Lord Hugoss,” said Anna, annoyed again. “His problems with me ought be with _me_ , not with Martin.”

“I see his point,” said Ser Puck with wary eyes. “Not that I mistrust you, but – Martin is _your_ squire, so if he comes into power, he’d be _your_ man. And that’s just another powerful person in a faction opposed to his.”

“I understand that, but I’m not opposed to Lord Hugoss,” said Anna testily. “Mayhaps I should talk to him after all. Where is he?”

Ser Puck gave a surprised look. “You don’t know? Lord Hugoss has aweighed anchor and sailed for Falkberg.”

And then it was Anna’s turn to be surprised. “Indeed? I didn’t know.”

“Aye, he’ll be away for two, three months at least,” said Ser Puck. “He’s been ordered to take the city by assault, but more likely he’ll attempt to siege them out. He has some five thousands men-at-arms, plus, of course, the navy.” He drained his ale mug. “All a considerable threat if he decides to join up with the Valkyrie, if you ask me. But Lord Hans doesn’t seem too worried about the possibility of that.

“Indeed, I think he has plots of his own. Makes me glad I’m a knight and not a lord, to be honest.”

That gave Anna a little bit to chew on, but in her room that night, as she donned her nightgown and slipped underneath the covers of her bed, she found an easy sleep eluded her on many other fronts as well.

And in particular, the queen.

She lay for a long time before she jumped out of bed and threw open the window. The night air was bitterly cold and full of blizzarding snow, but Anna didn’t care. She sat down on the sill and looked out at the black, the faint sense of dissatisfied unease quivering in her belly.

From a leather bag on the vanity she withdrew the blue flute that Saria had given her. Anna had tried to play it a little bit on the ride back south, but she struggled at making the sounds not terrible to listen to. The whooshing of the wind, and her own insomnia, convinced her now was as good a time for any to practice. She thought of the rapid whistling tune that Kaepora Gaebora had tweeted out before flying off, and set about the elaborate finger manipulations and twitches of embouchure to produce the sounds.

It was slow going, but she was untiring, and though she barely realized it, the longer she played the more natural the sounds seemed to come, until, at last, she reproduced Kaepora’s melody note for note, though at a much slower tempo.

Satisfied with her momentary conquest, Anna lowered the flute and cradled it in her lap, watching with one leg upraised on the sill the blowing of the frosty winds. It was really dreadfully cold, but her, in this place, at this time, Anna found that was all she wanted. She had had quite enough of warmth. It really seemed much too false. And then the queen, of course. Not two weeks ago she had expressed to Anna her profound dismay, and now – she was all radiation. And yet there was something odd about it that Anna couldn’t put her finger on. Was it merely falseness? A mask that the queen had adopted? No – it was something more than that, Anna decided. The queen was happy in her own right, for herself. And yet she smiled at Anna, with glittering eyes, full of knowing, and – mischief. _I know something you don’t_ , those eyes said, but not in sing-song; in a wan and oddly patronizing way. The frustration was acid in her stomach.

Out of the falling snow, a small black shape appeared, writhing in the gray winds. Anna squinted at it. Short seconds later, it grew in size, and kept growing, until Anna recognized it as a black bird with flapping wings that, finally, toppled onto the sill and shook its wings wetly as it assumed a perch.

“I’ll say!” said Kaepora. “This storm really is something. And in late March!” He tsked.

Anna’s eyes were wide. “Kaepora!” she said.

“Oh, you do remember my name! Well, that’s good, if anything is.”

“Kaepora… how did you get here?” laughed Anna. “Why did you come? Flying through that blizzard…”

“Why did I come?” echoed the bird in stark confusion. “You played my song!”

Anna looked down at her flute. “I… did…” she admitted slowly. “So you flew all the way down from the Rockwoods because I played a song a few minutes ago?”

“Well, I took a shortcut. Don’t mistake ol’ Kaepora for a mook.”

Anna only blinked at him, and then laughed again, this time more shrilly. Kaepora twisted his head until she stopped.

“I didn’t expect this,” Anna said as her laughs died down, and she turned her head to regard the cold black night. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble for you to come. I wouldn’t have played that song if I knew.”

“Oh, not at all!” the crow said almost quickly. “The storm, though.” He tsked again.

“The storm,” Anna agreed with a slight frown. She was quiet for several moments before she said, “The queen believes it’s magical.”

“Almost certainly,” the crow intoned.

“You think so?” said Anna and she gave the crow an arch look. “I guess, since you’re a talking bird, you would know.”

“Well, imagine my surprise, a talking human!” said the crow. “I haven’t heard you say so many words all together like that. The cat must have given your tongue up. Give it a little slishy-slash with that sword of yours?”

Anna frowned more fully.

“Hey,” said the crow. “That was a jape.”

Anna shook her head. “I’m sorry. I find very little to laugh about in sword-work.”

“Ah,” said the crow. “Well, I don’t blame you. It weighs on a soul to do such things, eh? Such as the killing?”

“It’s not the killing so much,” said Anna, and she realized how perverse that sounded, so she quickly added, “I mean, I don’t _enjoy_ killing, you understand – but I guess you could say I’ve grown… accustomed to it.” She shifted, and whispered, “Gods, no wonder the queen’s afraid of me.”

“Afraid? Of you?” The crow squawked. “You couldn’t hurt a fly.”

Anna raised an eyebrow. “I couldn’t hurt a fly,” she repeated sarcastically.

“Not on purpose, anyway. Suppose a fly said ‘Hello!’ to you one morning, or remarked on the weather or complained about a bunion – but it was buzzing around and being a nuisance as otherwise flies often do – would you kill it?”

“No,” said Anna after a short pause, failing to see Kaepora’s point. “I mean, I can’t eat it, and it’s harmless – so why would I?”

“Well, it’s annoying you, you see. Being a nuisance.”

“Now that’s hardly a reason to kill someone.”

“Even killers have standards,” proclaimed the crow. “Give me a principled killer any day of the week. Trust me, you don’t know how important principles are when most of your socialization is in the wild. Not so much as a howdy-do, just straight to business, talons, fangs, and all. What’s an unprincipled killer? I’ll tell you: owls, falcons, eagles, and hawks.”

“They _do_ have to eat,” Anna told the crow.

“Well, they don’t have to eat _me_ ,” he said.

“You hunt too, I’m sure,” said Anna in an accusing tone, though she was smiling now.

“Only frogs and mice,” said the crow, “when I can get them. Otherwise I’m a model citizen of the wild, I tell you. Now, then, what’s got you so down?”

“Oh, just life,” said Anna.

“Oh, life,” said the crow, in a tone that indicated he understood perfectly. “But what _part_ of life?”

Anna inspected her fingernails, coarse and trimmed. “It’s the queen,” she said at the end of a long silence. “I just feel so… so pulled apart. One minute she’s afraid of me, and the next she’s smiling happily at me. Everything about her is just so confusing. I just don’t understand what’s going on – what’s on her mind.”

“Why,” said the crow, “don’t you ask?”

Anna looked at the crow like he’d sprouted a second head. “Kaepora, I can’t just _ask._ ”

“Well, why not? It seems to me you could very well just ask. You would have to say, ‘Oi, queen! What’s on your mind?’ And just like that, you’ve asked. And if she answers – that’s good! And if she doesn’t – well, that’s hardly your fault.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Well, so is beating yourself up about something you don’t even know.”

That gave Anna pause. “That’s true,” she admitted.

“You braved a forest for her! A pretty dangerous one, too! Got poisoned and beaten up for your trouble! Sliced your palm for her! All without so much as a peep of protest!”

Anna nodded hesitantly.

“You should talk to her,” said the crow firmly. “Get her to tell what’s-what!”

“I can’t,” said Anna.

“You _can_ , you just don’t want to.”

“I _can’t_ ,” repeated Anna, more hotly. “You don’t understand. I can’t just make demands of people like that. I don’t know what insane machinations are in play. If I trust the queen, follow my orders… it’s bound to turn out okay. It _has_ to. I don’t know what’s on her mind, but I _do_ know that I’m devoted to her.”

“Really?” said Kaepora Gaebora quietly. “And how do you know that?”

Anna blinked. “I…”

Her answer floated away and the crow was no more to be seen. Slowly, Anna removed herself from the sill, closed the window shutters, curled up in her bed, and fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

Saddled upon Epona, Anna trotted up to the lagoon’s edge and experienced a profound sense of déjà vu as she reflected on the place where it had all started, before the queen and her knight became the queen, and a knight. The beach was covered in snow, as was everything else, so that it looked like a ghost of what it had been the day of her ill-fated fishing trip.

Her stomach moiled and she gloomed at the beach. “Okay,” she said aloud to the fresh, crisp air of the frosted lagoon. “ _Focus._ We’ve got a job to do. We need to find a fellow who will boat us across the swamps.”

Epona proved a poor or at least mute brainstormer, and said nothing in response, so Anna simply directed her up along the shoreline and beat out a northwards path, keeping in constant sight of the water. The surrounding woods turned droopy and twisted as they went, and even more oddly the snow stopped falling altogether at one point, until they crossed a point where the snowline itself stopped. Only the thinnest film of snow was here, and tube-rooted trees sat amongst the murky waters riddled with rotten logs and lily pads. Strangely, it had even grown warm, so much so that Anna loosened the clasp on her cloak.

Instinctively, she checked her belongings: glove, ring, sword, shield, boomerang. That was a new one. She didn’t know how, or really why, but she got it in to her head that the boomerang was magical, and she should probably take it along.

The faint ringing of a bell caught her attention. She raised her head and looked around – the ringing was coming from around a thick clump of trees, a bend in the lagoon that stood before a long twisty section of murky water. She rounded it and found a tiny pole boat with a silver bell and an unlit tin lantern hanging from one end. Hunched over at the other end was a figure wrapped in a thick brown cloak and hood. The boat was moored to a dead log on the lagoon side, and rocked back and forth gently in the waves.

Anna approached cautiously, careful not to alarm the man in the boat. When she stood no more than ten feet away, she thought she could hear muttering. Carefully, she drove Epona closer, and then looked down on the rocking boat from her perch. The man did not seem to notice her.

She cleared her throat. “Excuse me,” she said.

The man looked up sharply, and Anna nearly jumped in surprise. She gasped – it was not a man at all, but a pig thing, one that bore a peculiar similarity to the demons she fought in the Gobwoods. What was it that Fado called them – moblins? Yes – a moblin sat in the boat, its olive-green face and beady yellow eyes glaring up at Anna on her horse. It had two white tusks up thrust at the sides of its mouth, and a pig nose. Anna clumsily went for her sword.

But the moblin seemed disinterested. Grumbling audibly, it turned its head back down and resumed its previous business of doing nothing whatsoever.

Nonplussed, Anna dismounted and went up to the side of the boat. She had moved her hand away from her sword, albeit tentatively.

“Can you hear me?” she asked.

“Grumble grumble,” grumbled the moblin, and otherwise it said nothing.

Anna regarded the moblin coolly. “Can you give me a ride? Across the lagoon.”

Only more grumbling.

“Can you understand me?”

The moblin made eye-contact with her, beady yellow eyes flickering open and shut rapidly, and then turned away, grumbling some more.

Anna interrogated the moblin for a little while longer but, only receiving grumbles as answers, became tired of it early on and gave it up. A growl in her stomach told her it was lunchtime. Despite her agitation, she fed Epona a carrot, and for herself produced some jerked salt beef from the saddlebags.

She did not fail to catch the accompanying eye-motion of the moblin at this revelation.

Her own eyes went from the salt beef to the moblin. She held it out to him, but he snorted contemptuously and turned his head away.

“Too good for salt beef, eh?” she said as she pulled it back, and the moblin eyed her once more.

He grumbled.

“But you are hungry, then.”

He grumbled some more.

“Hungry for what?” she put away the salt beef and produced an apple. “This any better?”

The moblin refused to even look at the apple.

She produced next a raw chicken leg, wrapped in greasy leather, and the moblin’s eyes would not waver from it. But when she offered it to him, he wrinkled his nose and would not accept it.

“You don’t want me to _cook_ this for you, do you?”

Assuming that was exactly what he wanted, Anna collected some tinder from the surrounding undergrowth and set about making a cook fire and a spit. She cooked up the chicken while the moblin watched on, and turned it over the licking flames. Finally, she handed the cooked chicken leg to the moblin, who accepted it with greedy hands and began devouring it messily.

“That was going to be my dinner tonight,” Anna complained.

When the moblin was finished, he snorted and motioned to the boat, with nary a grumble besides.

She turned to Epona, took up a rucksack, and filled it with a few goods from the saddlebag. “Well, Epona, this is where we part. Will you be okay on your own? Should I tie you up here? Can you go back to the castle?”

Epona just looked at her, but would not let Anna tie her up. “Don’t run away now, okay?” said Anna with a light, almost nervous laugh. “I’m going to need you. You see any monsters, well – in that case, _do_ just run, okay?”

With that, Anna carefully stepped into the moblin’s boat. It rocked at her entry, and the bell tinkled lightly as the boat swayed.

As soon as she was seated, the moblin grasped a wooden pole sticking out of the water, whipped it through the air, and pushed away from the shore. The rope mooring came undone by itself, and in a few moments more, they were out on the lagoon, the moblin pushing them along with strong, slow stabs of the pole.

They went down a twisty pocket in the lagoon’s side that passed between two trees almost fully in the water. It let out into a wide stretch of murk that ended abruptly at a thick canopy of crying trees, when the waterway became as twisted and gnarled as the brush around it. Anna was surprised to see that the canopy was incredibly dense, and when they passed under it, the effect was immediate – all was dim except for a few stubborn rays of gray clouded sunshine that did their damndest to illustrate the swampy ground.

The lantern guttered on with a spurting flicker, and then a little flame glowed. It cast quick-moving shadows when the boat swayed or rocked, and its pale orb created a circle of orange on the surface of the black water.

Most of all, it was even warmer when they were beneath the dense canopy. Anna felt beads of sweat form on her back, and she undid her cloak fully. The air was still and muggy and it felt more like a hot summer day than the winter blizzard it ought to have been.

“Why’s it so warm here?” Anna wondered aloud, and half-asked the moblin with a cursory glance in his direction.

Just a snort in response, and he kept pushing along.

They drifted deeper and deeper into the swamps, and it got warmer and warmer, and the canopy denser and denser, until the sun was utterly blotted out, and the humid warmth was overpowering. Every now and again, bubbles would pop on the surface of the bog, and jets of steam would shoot out from roiling puddles of mud.

“Maybe this swamp is on a hot spring,” said Anna when she saw a bubble pop with a cloud of white steam.

The moblin said nothing the entire trip, despite some mixed attempts by Anna to make light conversation. Eventually she gave up, which seemed to suit the moblin just fine, for his pace never faltered or changed but he seemed to move more peacefully, gracefully when Anna wasn’t talking.

_Well, as long as he gets me into the swamp, I don’t care._

Although, even that thought grew riddled with doubts as the trip wore on: where _exactly_ was the moblin taking her? She realized with embarrassment that she hadn’t even asked or wondered about it. Perhaps she was being unreasonable; perhaps every boater took passengers to the same spot, and back again, and so there was no cause to ask or fuss about destinations and all that.

One way or another, Anna was definitely in the swamps, and thus, she reasoned, closer to her objective.

Every now and again, as the pole broke the water with soft dripping splashes, Anna got the strangest feeling that she was being watched; and when she looked, she saw only a flicker of dim glow or a rustle of leaves. The deeper they went, the stronger the feeling got.

At last they banked around a squat tree with a twisty trunk and fronds of leaves to arrive in a small kind of miniature bay with a smooth-sloping beach. The moblin drove the boat ashore. The lantern swayed; the noise of the bell was a wreath in the sloping clearing. A thick tangle of trees stood around the bay and curved around a clear section of swamp floor – apparently a path of some sort.

The moblin grunted when they stopped, and Anna looked around and nodded. She took up her belongings and stepped out of the boat onto the squelchy beach.

“Thank you,” she said to the moblin. He grumbled and hunched himself over, sticking his pole firmly into the mud.

“Are you going to wait for me?” she asked incredulously, but the moblin of course said nothing in reply.

Anna breathed impatiently out her nose and turned to regard the swamp path. She patted Autumn’s hilt for luck and went forth.

No sooner did she top the crest of the slope did the trees around her become alive with activity. Out from the branches and the shadows emerged a dozen-or-so short green men in boiled leather with spears and shields – except they weren’t men, of course, but had heads that very mightily resembled frog heads with whiskers. Twenty-four oddly shaped pupils in golden-yellow eyes glared at her from the forest. The owner of one set of them stepped forward and croaked.

“Greetings, human traveler,” it said in a squeaky, reedy voice. “My name is Ser Glenn.” Unlike the other frogs, he had a sword, sheathed, and instead of a boiled leather jerkin, he wore a chipped white-enameled cuirass and had a dark green cloak draped over his shoulders. “Prithee, tell us thy name and thy purpose in our marsh. It hath been a long time since a human such as thee hath paid us visit.”

Dumbfounded for a moment, Anna gathered herself, cleared her throat, and replied, “I am Ser Anna, Knight of Crystalwater, Lady Protector to Her Majesty Queen Elsa of Arendelle. I have come to treat with the people of this marsh. Might I assume you are they?”

“Thou comest to treat with us? That is surprising to hear,” said Ser Glenn. He worried one of his whiskers with a webbed, green hand.

“So, you are the oglins of the Toadsmarsh?” Anna asked.

“We are some of them,” replied Ser Glenn. “Thou say thou comest as envoy from the queen of Arendelle – that is pleasing. His Grace will be eager to receive thee.”

“His Grace?” repeated Anna. “To whom do you refer, good ser?”

“Why, His Majesty, the Frog King,” said Ser Glenn. “Dost thou not knowest of him?”

Anna blinked in confusion. “I beg your pardon, ser. I did not know the oglins had a king.” _Anymore._

“’Tis a recent development, Ser Anna, so thy lack can be pardoned,” said Ser Glenn, frowning slightly. “If thou wanst, I can take thee to him immediately.”

Anna worked her jaw before she responded, carefully, “Yes, I think that would be best.”

Ser Glenn nodded and swiveled on his heels, gesturing with his hand for the rest of the oglins to follow suit. They raised their spears and assumed two ranks on Anna’s either side, and together they went into the swamp by means of the twisty, windy pathway.

It wasn’t very long before they came to a wide clearing nigh-flooded with swamp water, in the center of which was a heavy-looking mess of a wooden building that seemed a cross between a gate tower and the hollowed-out log of an old broken sycamore. A very definable wooden gate marked its front, and stood starkly in front of a black abscess that, Anna assumed, represented the depths of whatever the cavernous structure bore entrance to. It felt queerly familiar to the crypt in the White Forest, almost ironically so. Overhead still was the thick canopy of enormously tall trees, whose fans of leaves continued to blot the daylight. From a branch above the gate, a glowing lantern hung.

“What is this place?” Anna asked.

Without turning around, Ser Glenn answered, “This be the sunken castle, Blackwatch, where His Grace sitteth the Throne of Reeds.”

“The Throne of Reeds, ser?”

“’Tis the ancestral throne of the Frog Kings of old,” said Ser Glenn solemnly. “Thou wilt see, soon enough.”

At their approach, the gate yawned open with a drawn-out creaking whine, and inside it looked completely different. The wooden tangle that defined its exterior gave way to black stone, mortar, and clay, that all worked together to form a wide and impossibly deep set of stairs. From the ceiling, at points all up and down the stairs, hung more lanterns, which Anna now noticed did not have flames in them at all, but tiny moving pinpricks of light.

_Fireflies,_ she realized.

At Ser Glenn’s lead, they all went down into the tunnel. The steps were narrow and close together, forcing Anna to watch her step as they descended into the darkness. The path was an odd one, at times leveling out and turning at angles and sometimes even going up for a few steps at a time. With growing frequency they passed a number of twists and turns that branched off into what looked like an endless spiral of caverns, though they seemed to stick to the “main” corridor.

Ser Glenn had noticed Anna peering down the stretching corridors, and remarked: “The caverns of Blackwatch go to all corners of the marsh. None moveth through these waters without our knowing.”

Once they had walked for some twenty minutes, after another rising section of stairs, the passage leveled out. Anna guessed they were now quite deep, and at this depth, the air was ridiculously warm. Even while the surface was warm as of a cool summer’s day, down here the air was hot and stale. The cavern opened up to present a very tall set of wooden double doors, utterly unadorned. In front of them, two oglin guards stood at attention in the wavering light.

“A human!” exclaimed one of the guards at their approach.

Ser Glenn nodded at him. “’Tis so, an envoy from the queen.”

“Of Arendelle?”

“Verily.”

The oglin guards nodded respectfully and moved as one to grasp the large iron pulls at the middle of the door. They opened the double doors with a deep-throated groaning sound, and a bright light forced Anna to shield her eyes.

It was an enormous hall, somewhat like the throne room in the Arenborg, but with a higher ceiling and a towering back wall. Thick stone pillars held up the ceiling around the perimeter, and at the length of the room, the back wall was half covered by a huge pane of stained glass. It depicted a triumphant oglin, clad in steel armor with sword held aloft, standing on the severed head of a red dragon with antlers. The other half of the wall, just above it, was an enormous grating of rusted cast iron that stood stark against the blackness of some enormous vent. Beneath the glass, a high, high dais held a giant throne made of woven reeds and black bark, at the top of which, embedded in the reeds, was – _yes_ – a golden shard, whose glow played magnificently across the room.

But the throne was not empty. Sitting it was a frog of such prodigious fatness that Anna had to look twice to confirm it was an oglin and not a tremendous lump of green. It wore a white surcoat and a burgundy cape, and nestled on its head was a tall, yellow crown, lined all around with amethysts, onyx, pearls, and rubies.

Ser Glenn strode confidently down the hall, the walls of which were lined with oglins armed with spears and shields; Anna followed closely behind, and behind her were the oglins they came in with. Anna’s eyes were fixed on the golden shard, but as they approached, she shifted her gaze to the fat frog, who was staring at her with a peering, toadish suspicion.

Ser Glenn took his knee before the frog, as did the others in their party. Anna simply bowed.

A long moment of silence passed, which ended when Ser Glenn unsteadily rose to his feet and spoke. “Thy Grace, an envoy from the queen of Arendelle is come to see thou.”

The crowned frog’s eyes snapped to Ser Glenn and he grunted. “O? An envoy, thou say? Come to pay me tribute?”

He did not wait for a response. His eyes glittered and he slapped his flabby hands together. “An envoy. An envoy! Speak, envoy! Wherefore comest thou to mine kingdom?”

That about confirmed it. He was calling himself a king, and referring to a kingdom of his own. _Does that mean they’re in rebellion?_ thought Anna. She dipped her head and tried to think of a response.

“Your Grace, the Queen of Arendelle has sent me to treat with you.”

The crowned oglin grinned hugely, the purple nub of his tongue visible through his open mouth. He belched out a throaty chuckle, and said, “It is good to see the queen finally recognize me. So, then, what ‘treat’ doth the queen sendeth?‘Tis war? ‘Tis a demand for me to bend mine knee?”

“I was sent to treat with you,” said Anna earnestly. “I seek something – a favor – on behalf of Her Majesty.”

“A favor that ought be repaid in kind, then,” said the crowned frog curtly. “One monarch to another. Wherefore must I suffer this grievous insult? Art thou dim-witted? When mine own neighbors will not recognize my right to rule? My right as king? I am King of the Frogs!” He slammed a flabby fist on one of the arms of the reed throne.

Anna felt that she had lost control of the situation. Clearly this frog king was out of his mind. Desperately she tried to patch together something to save face, anything. She dipped her head obsequiously. “N-No, Your Grace. Forgive me, I am, as you say, dim-witted, and – the queen only sent me because none better were available – you see, she is fighting a civil war against rebels – other rebels – erm, that is, against a rebel in the Wings. She… She… She seeks your aid. One monarch to another.”

The crowned frog twisted his mouth in concentration as he continued to peer down at Anna.

“Well,” he said slowly, “I see that is something.” He paused in thought for a moment, and then said, “Tell me, envoy, what position thou holdeth in the court of Queen Arendelle?”

Without thinking, Anna replied, “I am Her Majesty’s Lady Protector.”

A short-lived murmur flitted through the court, and the crowned frog squawked out a croaking laugh and motioned to Ser Glenn. He mounted the dais and leaned in for a confidential word. Whispers were exchanged, and eyes shifted in Anna's direction. Suddenly the crowned frog snapped his head up and squelched his eyes at Anna. "Well! One to another, then: mine own Lord Protector is Ser Glenn. A first-rate oglin, both in skill and intellect." He leaned forward. "What is thy name, Lady Protector?"

"I am Ser Anna."

"Ser Anna, then – listen! Thou art mine... guest, ye-es, that's right – mine guest, as of now. The first to pay us heed in a long time. Momentous." He chuckled. "Momentous."

Anna nodded, and did her best to conceal her frown.

“Thou wilt be given quarters so long as thou art mine guest. Is this clear?” He nodded as if he’d asked himself. “Ser Glenn, escort Ser Anna to the guest room.”

No sooner did Ser Glenn bow than Anna stepped forward hastily. She hesitated, bowed her head, and then spoke. “Your Grace. Please, I have but one request from the queen, and – and, in exchange, the queen will – will pay you homage.” She hoped it worked.

“Oh?” said the frog king into the ensuing silence.

“Yes. She… That golden shard in your throne.” Anna indicated it with a careful sweep of the hand. “I take it for a piece – an ancient artifact, one the queen desires.”

“Oh?” said the frog king again, barely turning his head to behold the golden shard. “This thing,” he said, “is a storied treasure of the oglin people. Why shouldst I give it to thee?”

Anna blinked. “The queen will pay any price,” she tried.

The frog king regarded her with a gaze that seemed momentarily hostile. It softened into a sly peering as his mouth wattled into a coy grin. “The queen _wilt_ pay any price,” he said. “Of that, I have no doubt. No, thou shalt not have this treasure of mine. But thou wilt have mine hospitality. Ser Glenn.”

Gently, Ser Glenn took Anna by one elbow, and pulled her in the direction of a door off to the side. A few spearmen followed, and together they proceeded into the bowels of the castle, a sense of foreboding growing in Anna’s gut with each step.

Ser Glenn said nothing the whole while, only walking ahead in dead silence. Anna tried to ply him. “Ser Glenn,” she said, “I was only wondering… How long has it been that your king has sat his throne?”

The frog knight stirred. “About three turns of the moon,” he said. “I suppose thou wouldst be the first human to hear it directly. The king was only a lord when he heard the voice of providence that led him down this road.”

“What is that?”

“I know not personally. But that is why His Grace would not give thee the Golden Treasure. ‘Twas the thing that told him to carve the Oglin Kingdom anew. Thou knowest this story not? He rose up and declared his independence of thine Arendelle, and that was that.”

“I think,” said Anna slowly, “that many in Arendelle did not know that your king declared independence.”

“It’s hardly our fault. If Queen Arendelle cannot be bothered to take an interest in oglin doings, what did she expect?”

Anna looked down. _They believe they have won their independence,_ she thought sadly. In a way, she guessed they had. And then a rage of frustration bittered her mind. _Well, what_ did _she expect? The queen said so herself nobody spoke to the oglins. It’s a wonder they didn’t call themselves independent for longer. Hells, they might have been independent for_ years _and how would anyone know?_

The futility of her mission hit her like a sack of bricks. Anna knew she needed to return to the queen, to report the trouble and… what then? Arendelle was already fighting and _losing_ another rebellion. Who would raise their banners?

_One thing at a time._ Anna sighed. For now, she just had to focus on getting out, and then the queen and Hans could worry how to deal with this apparent political disaster.

Just then, a tremor shook the low corridor they were passing through, knocking some clumps of dirt and tiny fragments of stone loose from the ceiling. It lasted for but a few seconds, but happened at the same time that a low, distant, scorching roar vibrated the walls and throttled the air, as of the scream of a gigantic beast somewhere deep, deep below the earth. A shiver down Anna’s spine forced her to twist uncomfortably.

“What,” she said, “was that?”

“Ah,” said Ser Glenn brightly. “ _That_ was our finest possession of all.

“His name,” he went on, “is Nidhogg.”

Ser Glenn turned his head and smiled just a little bit. “Thou knowest not the story of this castle, I take it? The story of Blackwatch?”

Anna shook her head.

“When this swamp was first settled,” he said, still walking, “the First Oglins had needs make do with cold, harsh winters. They became practitioners of fire magic. Masters of it. They worked their magics to ensure that harsh winters never harmed us. It was a golden age for oglins.

“But then, he came,” rumbled Ser Glenn darkly. “Nidhogg.”

He was silent for several moments as he continued walking down the corridor, webbed hands now clenched into fists. “He was a demon of flame and fire, a terrible beast sent by the gods to punish us for… for some imagined crime. He burnt the swamp to ashes and forced us to hideth deep underground. We relied on the water and the cold to shieldeth us from his tyranny, for our magic was naught to him.

“One final effort of the last oglin mages created a blade to tame fire – the legendary oglin sword, Hinoken. No mage survived its forging, but the great Ser Cyrus took it up and defeated the dragon.

“All was well once more, and Ser Cyrus was a hero. But soon after, _another_ threat came and once more threatened oglinkind.” He swiveled on Anna. “Canst thou guess what it was?”

Anna shook her head.

“’Twas the same that threatened all of the dale and beyond,” he said in a low voice. “The Ice Queen.”

He turned forward again and kept walking. “She brought with her Nidhogg, that same fell beast of old, and granted him our marsh as his domain. She stole Hinoken from us, and we were defenseless. ‘Twas only the legendary hero who saved us then. He returned Hinoken to us, and with it we vanquished Nidhogg. Once he put an end to the Ice Queen, our gratitude to humans was great.”

Anna was silent for a chilly moment. “You said it _was_ great?”

“It was,” confirmed Ser Glenn. “But we have come around. The Ice Queen was human. Thou art human. Ser Cyrus defeated Nidhogg with nary a human about, and who should have revived our woes but humans?”

He made a rasping croak that might have been a scornful tsk, and then was silent again.

Anna cleared her throat and prodded him. “But ser, what has that got to do with the quake that occurred just now?”

“Ah,” said Ser Glenn. “That’s Nidhogg.”

For a moment, that didn’t take. “Come again?”

“In the deeps of this castle.”

Anna was mortified. “You mean he’s _alive?”_

“If thou canst call it that. ‘Tis thanks to the legendary hero. Thou art warm-blooded, so thou must have noticed this swamp is of a very pleasant temperature?”

Anna nodded dumbly.

“’Tis the doings of Nidhogg. He liveth in the castle deeps, and the great heat of his body is piped to all the swamp. Every cavern is an artery, and the heat of Nidhogg the blood that keeps the swamp alive. ‘Tis a fitting punishment, a fitting use for such a fell demon.”

Anna couldn’t say she agreed. It sounded like a terribly bad idea. “But why?” she asked.

“Because we can,” said Ser Glenn, pounding one fist into the other. “‘Twould be a waste to slay the beast when we can put its shoulder to the wheel on bettering the lives of others. Well, here is thy room.”

They had arrived at a thick door that opened into a reasonably well-furnished though thoroughly subterranean room. The décor was all a dark forest green and the squat plush bed looked fresh and ready. Some doors spaced throughout the room showed that there were multiple apartments.

“Human guests often used these rooms, back when they visited,” Ser Glenn sniffed. “I hope they are to thy liking. If thou needst anything, let one of thy guardsmen know.”

Anna nodded somewhat vacantly, her mind still elsewhere. “Thank you, ser, though I don’t expect I shall be staying for long.”

“Oh no?” said Ser Glenn with a hint of amusement in his voice. Something in the way he said it made Anna’s skin crawl. “Thou art the king’s guest. We implore thee to accept His Grace’s hospitality.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I really must get back to my queen.”

“She canst wait,” said Ser Glenn curtly. “Surely.”

Anna’s fingers tingled as the sensation of unease flooded her body. She opened her mouth to ask, _Am I a prisoner?_ but a feeling told her that now was the time for a more tactful approach. _Play dumb. Make them think you’re dumb._ So Anna simply nodded and said, “Yes, she can. I thank you,” and bowed.

Ser Glenn smiled. “The king will want to see thee later, I am sure – but for the nonce, thy time is thine own; though prithee keep thee to thy chambers.”

Anna nodded, and pretended to look as though she just thought of something. “Oh, ser, before I forget – I am quite curious about your… about the… the beast you have in the depths. I was wondering if perhaps it was possible that I could see it?” She paused. “As a young girl I heard many fantastic stories, and, well, it would please me greatly to see for myself an elder monster such as yours.”

Ser Glenn seemed to consider it. “That may be possible,” he mused. “So long as I am there, thou hast nothing to fear… Very well. Wilt thou desireth time to wash up, or canst thou cometh now?”

“I can wash up later,” said Anna quickly. “It is not any mere time that one gets to see the prized possession of the oglins.”

Ser Glenn nodded, and motioned to the others, who assumed posts around the outside of Anna’s room. He then beckoned Anna, and the two of them continued down a side corridor that let out into a wide, spiraling descent, that itself led to the top of a deep, cylindrical shaft. A cliff stood adjacent to a complex-looking arrangement of levers, pullies, and wheels.

On the cliff, Ser Glenn hailed an oglin standing sentry there. “Prithee raise the elevator,” he told the oglin, who nodded and yanked a rope. Distantly down the shaft, a bell rang.

A few minutes later, a rattling and crackling platform came up the shaft. It looked like a large wicker basket with a door in the side, and was maintained by a mess of ropes and hooks that attached it to the larger apparatus.

“How far down?” asked the sentry.

“All the way,” replied Ser Glenn.

The sentry looked surprised at that, but did as he was told. He yanked a few ropes, threw a lever, and with a start, the basket lurched and started moving down, and down, and down.

The shaft was ill-lit except for the light of a few corridors they passed through on lower levels, though the further they went the further apart these corridors became, until most of the time they were in pitch blackness. Eventually, the basket hit solid ground with a definite _thump_ , and the door opened to reveal a long low hallway that led to a cast iron door with a big oddly-shaped hole in it. Outside the door, a single sentry sat on a stool, looking very dejected.

“He roared today,” Ser Glenn told the sentry when they came up.

“I know,” said the sentry dolefully. “It was dreadful loud, it was. Ser, did you know yesterday they forgot to send me down any food? I’m proper famished, and I could use a drink or two besides.”

“Thou couldst do without the drink,” said Ser Glenn chastely.

“Not without food, though. I hate this job.”

“Thou shouldst have thought about that before thou stole from His Grace,” snapped Ser Glenn. “Be grateful he did not have off thy hand.”

“Grateful?” scorned the sentry, muttering. “What has gratitude ever done for me?”

“Enough of thy whinging. Now, open the door.”

The sentry frowned. “Ser?”

“I said _now_. Do not make me repeat myself, scoundrel.” Ser Glenn grabbed the handle of his sword as a warning.

The sentry blinked his froggy eyes at the sword, and then, grumbling, reached behind him and pulled an enormous iron key out of a wooden box on the floor. He waddled over to the door, inserted the key into the hole, and turned it clockwise about eight times, then counter-clockwise a dozen times. The whole time, the door shook and shuddered as if it was like to dissolve. Then, finally, it made a cracking sound, and the whole thing swung open.

Inside was a gigantic chamber with walls of red and blackened stone that sloped up to meet no ceiling at all, simply a huge black shaft that seemed to extend upwards infinitely. It was sweltering hot, and the ground Anna could swear was glowing red.

Its glow, however, was nothing compared to the red light and almost visible heat of Nidhogg.

Crouched in the center of the chamber, still some fifty feet away from Anna and Ser Glenn, was what looked at first to be a very large red lizard with wings, decorated heavily all over with chains and shackles of black metal, fastened to the wall at all points so that it could barely move. It had four limbs with claws, all manacled, and its wings, which might have had a total wingspan of over two hundred yards, were crumpled up and drenched in chains. On its head were two large, wickedly stagged antlers, and over its snout was a heavy muzzle of steel with a keyhole in the side, of about the same shape as that in the door they had just passed through.

When they entered, Anna heard a rumbling. At first she thought the earth was moving, but it was actually the dragon. It had started the noise in its belly, and it went to the throat, and it ended up in the muzzle, where it vibrated through the air palpably. It reared up and glared at them with two huge golden eyes with slits for pupils.

Ser Glenn drew his sword – long and slender, glimmering gold and red – and held it out in front of him. “Well, may thy curiosity be slaked. ‘Tis Nidhogg thou seest here. The oldest and most dangerous enemy of all oglinkind.”

Anna said nothing. She merely looked. But the dragon did not look back – its eyes were on Ser Glenn and his sword.

A minute of silence went by as they all stood there. Wordlessly, Ser Glenn turned and motioned to Anna to follow. They left the chamber and the sentry locked the door behind them. Ser Glenn sheathed his sword.

“That hole in the ceiling,” Anna said as they climbed into the basket, “where does it go?”

“All over the swamp. ‘Tis a network of tunnels,” said Ser Glenn. He yanked a rope and a distant bell sounded above. The basket lurched into motion. “The throne room itself is heated off of the main artery.”

Anna considered that for a moment. “And the surface?”

“Of course. How dost thou imagine we got the beast in there in the first place?”

Anna nodded as she thought back to the huge grating in the throne room. “What did that oglin do?”

“The sentry? Petty theft. He was a servant ‘till he was caught stealing the king’s doilies. He was always a drunkard, that one. Addicted.” Ser Glenn snorted contemptuously.

He deposited her at her room, and she asked, just to be sure, “When do you think it would be convenient for me to leave?”

Ser Glenn’s glance wavered and he said vaguely, “Eventually.”

He left behind a contingent of two guardsmen to watch outside her door. Thus was she left alone to think. She sat down heavily on the plush bed, sinking into it.

_Well,_ she thought, _I’m definitely a prisoner._ There was no doubting that. It didn’t matter if the oglins believed their independence to be a foregone thing, as they couldn’t possibly hurt from having a hostage in the form of one of the queen’s council members. True, it might not matter in the end. The matter would be settled by other means. But Anna didn’t put head-shortening above what the oglins would do if their backs were against the wall. Something Lady Ysmir had once said about a cornered animal.

Anna massaged her temples in consternation. _I need to escape and get the golden shard. But_ how?

She paced around the room and inspected the furniture and the apartments. There were a few nice dressers, evidently invulnerable to mildew, a large mirror and a sofa. It all looked off, however – as though someone had looked at a courtly bedroom but didn’t quite understand the function of everything therein, and then committed to reproducing it. The drawers on the dressers, for instance, would not open, and the mirror was too awkwardly sized to get a good look at oneself. The bed seemed to be the only thing that really worked.

One door let into a small steamy room that led to a sliding wooden panel. Anna pushed it back and found a room that was carved out of the stone, large and housing what appeared to be a pool of hot water, fed by a trickling stream that came out of a faucet in the wall, shaped in the fashion of a dragon’s head.

A bath sounded pretty good just then.

She paced for a while more before tearing off her clothes and slipping into the hot water. It was extremely hot, almost scalding, but after some time’s adjustment felt like the most natural thing in the world. The water smelled like earth and grass and seemed to rinse the edges out of her mind. She wondered if the queen’s baths were as nice as this.

Anna had acquired a very intimate understanding of the arrangement of her apartment by the time someone came knocking. It was an oglin guard, who told Anna the time had come for supper. Feeling refreshed, but not having made any more sense of her situation, Anna went along, hoping at least for something good to eat.

It was a forlorn hope, however, as the oglin fare was not remotely passable. Porridges made with flies instead of oats, roasted dragon-flies, and countless other insects and arthropods and little fish Anna did not recognize made up the entirety of the oglin diet. She inquired after some bread and only got a funny look.

There was something of a feast that night, and Anna assumed it was to celebrate the king’s acquisition of a new hostage, for she was seated at his right and everyone shot her looks. Under their scrutiny, she did her best to stomach as much oglin food as she could – but there was no use for it, so she only nibbled as occasionally as possible to give the barest impression that she was really eating.

The wine was another matter. It was black and tasted of licorice, but Anna found she didn’t mind it as much. Still, it was very strong, so she only had part of a cup. She wanted her wits about her.

The feast went on for some time with the king extemporanealizing at length about the glory of oglinkind, to raucous and long-lived applause. Songs were sung, amusements were brought out, and it wasn’t long before nearly everyone was in their cups to some degree. At last the king sat himself up on his throne and demanded further entertainments, and Ser Glenn went up and stood at his side.

A long speech ensued where a frog with terrific whiskers and a booming voice told the story of the fire demon, Nidhogg. It lasted for several verses and ended with a triumphant exaltation of the king, and of oglinkind, and so on. In any other situation, Anna would have forced down a stiff drink at this; but not today. Instead, she was forced to contemplate the dragon, and his slavery, and how very convinced the oglins were that they were right.

Anna’s stomach rumbled. She eyed the food mournfully and the performers disinterestedly. She watched someone else take a platter with them and disappear into a side corridor, and an idea hit her like a thunderbolt.

A bottle of wine in one hand, she told her escorts she was ready to retire to her quarters.

“You’re taking that with you?” one of them drawled.

“If that’s okay,” she said in a shy voice. “I really like it. You oglins make _terrific_ wine!”

That satisfied both the guards. “Well, you might as well enjoy it while you can,” the other one slurred, and they escorted her back to her chambers.

“Do bugs ever roam these halls?” Anna asked idly on the way.

“If we’re lucky,” was the response.

Her idea was crazy. It meant certain death if she failed. But she had a duty to do.

Once she got back to her room, she paced around it for a bit. She kicked off her boots, went into the bathroom, and screamed. She came back out and opened her main door a crack.

“What was that about?” asked one of the guards.

“There’s a bug in the bath,” she said. “It scared me! I was going to take a bath, but – ”

“ _Scared_ you?” repeated the guard, incredulous. “Why would it scare you?”

“We humans aren’t tough like you oglins. We fear the tiniest of things – even bugs!”

The guards seemed to find that copasetic with their worldview. They exchanged a look. One of them smiled haughtily and tromped into her room.

“Show me the bug,” he said.

She led him to the bathroom and opened the sliding door. She closed the other doors behind them.

“Where is it?”

“Right there,” she said, pointing vaguely.

“I can’t see it.”

“Right where you’re looking. Look closer.”

She flicked her wrist and the boomerang snapped back into her hand. She went back to the main door.

“He needs help,” she told the other guard.

“What?”

“He said he needs help,” Anna said as earnestly as she could.

“That idiot,” snarled the other guard, and shoved past Anna and stomped into the baths. He froze when he walked into the room, in shock; then he froze for another reason.

Anna tied them up with the sheets from the bed, and stowed them in the corner of the baths. The magical paralysis wore off and they started shouting muffled threats through the gags and struggling against their bindings. But Anna could tie a pretty good knot.

She grabbed her vital belongings and the bottle of wine and took off down the corridor, down the large stair, and down to the elevator shaft.

She held the wine out for the sentry’s inspection. “I was sent to bring this to the oglin below.”

“Aye? Well, don’t keep ‘m waiting,” said the sentry in a bored tone.

Anna boarded the basket and was off with a yank on the rope.

When she got to the bottom, she took the bottle up to the sentry.

“What’s that you’ve got there?” said the sentry with wide-eyes.

“Wine. I thought you looked parched,” said Anna in the sweetest tone she could muster.

The oglin took it greedily and unstopped the bottle. He took a great long pull before it sat back with a contended sigh. “Aye, that’s good stuff. Go-od stuff.”

“I’ll say. This is a pretty wretched job, huh?”

“Aye,” said the oglin and he laid his spear aside. He took another pull and smacked his lips. “They say it’s fittin’ for a criminal to look after other criminals. Well. I don’t know what the fuss is about. It’s not like the king _needed_ all them doilies.”

At the oglin’s third pull, Anna bashed him with the boomerang like a club. The bottle clattered on the floor, and he was out like a light. She liberated the key from the box and opened the door, shutting it behind her.

The dragon’s chamber was as it had been before, except now it was only Anna in the room with the beast. Large iron key in hand, she walked up so that she stood directly below the dragon. Its muzzle hovered feet above her head.

It rumbled and peered at her.

She held up the key. The dragon looked accordingly baffled, but inclined its head slowly, tenderly, as if the moment would be lost if handled too callously.

Before she did anything, she asked, “I’ve heard a lot of bad things about you. Something tells me they’re not all true.”

The dragon, of course, said nothing.

“I’m going to free you,” she told the dragon. She reached the key into the keyhole on the muzzle, and turned it clockwise eight times, and counterclockwise twelve times.

With the banging of tumblers, the whole thing loosened. Anna jumped back with a yelp and it clanged against the ground with a tremendous thud, chipping the rock floor where she had stood just a moment prior. She landed on her bottom in her haste to get away, and was wincing as the dragon worked its jaw for the first time in ages.

It rumbled again. A smile played on its draconian face. Its eyes smoldered dangerously.

“Now, this is new,” it said, its voice quiet and loud at the same time. “What makes you think I’m not going to eat you right now?”

Anna looked up at the dragon. “I just freed you,” she said bluntly.

“Not yet,” corrected the dragon.

“Well,” said Anna, “I’m _about_ to free you.”

“So, gratitude, then,” rumbled the dragon.

“Mutual interest,” she said. “I don’t know what you did to them to get locked up, but I want to hear your side of things. I’m their prisoner, just like you. So.”

“So,” repeated the dragon, amused. “Before we begin, you should know I’m somewhat soured on mortals right now. Have been for – let’s say – two thousand years?”

Anna blinked. “You haven’t been locked up for _two thousand years_ ,” she said.

“I did have a short break in there,” admitted the dragon. “The Ice Queen was a very extraordinary human.”

Anna’s brain worked as she pieced the dragon’s meaning together. “You were a prisoner _before_ the Ice Queen showed up?”

“Oh, yes,” said the dragon. “She freed me – for a while – but that accursed blade put me down again.”

Anna got to her feet. “The oglins said you terrorized them. Burnt their swamps, attacked them – all that. And that this was your punishment.”

The dragon roared, a scornful, laughing roar that echoed throughout the chamber and, Anna had no doubt, all around the complex. “I _made_ these insipid frogs!” said the dragon after he had finished his roar, gnashing his long, sharp white teeth. “I _gave_ them everything – and this is how they repaid me. Their lies – _their LIES._ The enormity of it all!” The dragon roared again.

He leveled his head and snaked his neck down such that his face was even with Anna’s. She looked him in the eyes. His voice was low, and shook the earth like a drum. “Little human. Something you should know about oglins. They are greedy and vain and utterly lacking in gratitude. Tell me, what did they tell you of their so-called fire magic?”

“They told me it was a skill they learned to survive in the swamps.”

The dragon spoke in a low, smoky voice. “It was no such thing. It was a _gift_. From _me._ ”

“A gift?”

“Oh, yes. I took pity on them; always squatting in the mud every winter. I taught them how to weave fire and flames and, with that skill, _survive._ ”

Anna looked at the dragon warily. “How do I know you tell it true?”

“Heh heh,” said the dragon. “You don’t. But you can know it true that I am a spirit of fire. And what reason would I have to aggress against the oglins?”

“Well,” said Anna, “you might be evil.”

“That’s true,” admitted the dragon. “But I am not. Or at least, I do not _think_ I am. I have been called a demon so many times that I often forget myself. But I have my principles. Once, they involved protecting and serving mortals.”

The dragon exhaled shakily in what might have been a sigh.

“So what happened?” asked Anna.

“I gave them too much,” after a lengthy pause. “No matter what I taught them, they asked for more. They wanted to know how to conjure flames, so I showed them. They wanted to know how to imbue fire in things, so I showed them. But they sometimes abused the power. Burnt down their own swamps, burnt themselves, burnt – each other,” the dragon’s eyes flashed. “So I gave them one final gift that would be mastery over fire itself. I gave them a shred of my soul.”

The dragon stopped talking, though its eyes continued to smolder.

“They took that shred,” said the dragon quietly, “and imbued it in a sword of their own devising. All of my gifts went into that blade, and thenceforth that blade existed for only one purpose – to enslave me.”

“Truly?” asked Anna.

The dragon just looked at her. It tweaked her. It felt wrong, wronger than wrong. Of course she didn’t know if it was true, but the mere idea of it set her emotions to a boil.

“I am Nidhogg, god of fire,” said the dragon darkly, “and I will have my _revenge._ And I will burn you to a crisp if you do not free me now.”

Anna blinked and stuck out her jaw at him. “If you burn me to a crisp, you won’t get free – and that will be the end of your revenge.”

Nidhogg chuckled breathily. His exhale seemed to singe Anna’s extremities.

“Let’s make a deal,” he said. “You want something. I can sense it in you – you are here for something. Your soul _yearns_ for something. Well, what is it?”

“I came for an artifact,” Anna said, “on the orders of my queen.”

“Let’s get you that artifact, then. Release me and I will climb out of this cavern and waste the oglins’ precious home. You can take your artifact, I will take my revenge, and then we need never see each other again.”

It was quite a lot to ask. Anna worked the options over in her mind. On the one hand, the oglins were in rebellion, and had made her their prisoner; on the other, she didn’t know if she could trust the dragon. But time was running out. She clenched and unclenched her fists, and then said, “Deal.”

She took up the key and went around the perimeter of the room, de-shackling the dragon from the multiple shackles and manacles that held him down.

When she got to the last chain, all of them seemed to slide off like water. He spread his wings wide. Tip-to-tip, they touched the walls of the room.

Nidhogg looked at Anna. “Thank you, little human. I will climb free, now. Meet me in the throne room.”

He jumped up into the ceiling shaft. It was wide, but not wide enough for the dragon to spread his wings, and so he was forced to scrabble up its walls using his long hooked tail and remaining claws for purchase. With stabs and scrapes, he clawed his way up.

Meanwhile, Anna turned and went back to the door. She flung it open and went into the corridor. The sentry was still out cold, but he was moaning and stirring now. Anna put the key back in the box, shut the door, and ran for the shaft. She boarded the carriage and yanked the rope.

Nothing happened.

Perplexed, Anna craned her head to look up the shaft. Only pinpricks of light, faint and fainter, and nothing else to go by. With a frown, she inspected the surroundings and the mechanism.

The pulley was attached in two parts to a separate apparatus that managed the raising and lowering of a heavy set of weights, the counterbalance to the carriage. At some point, Anna reasoned, the weights had to be braked or added to ensure the carriage moved. But if the weights also moved, they probably weren’t added, so they had to be braked at certain pre-defined points.

And that’s when she saw it: an arrangement of about ten ropes side-by-side at the end of the apparatus, each one slotted into a different ring. On the furthest rope to the right, she saw a knot that squeezed against the dark metal ring. Those ropes probably regulated the weights, so if they were cut…

She threw her boomerang. It sliced through all ten ropes and flipped back into her hand just a moment before the basket shot up like a rocket. The momentum tried to push her against the floor of the carriage, and the speed went up and up until, finally, the ceiling of the shaft zoomed into view. With all her might, she leaped to safety just before the carriage smashed into splinters against the ceiling shaft.

The oglin sentry gaped as she somersaulted forward and gained her footing. Before he could do anything, Anna bull rushed him and lifted him bodily. His spear clattered against the ground and he squealed. Anna smashed her forehead against his froggy face. She threw the dazed and bloodied oglin down, and ran up the steps towards the throne room with all haste.

She encountered two oglin men-at-arms on the way. “Halt!” they cried, and leveled their spears. Anna drew out Autumn and weaved between them, cutting each of them down with savage swipes.

In the throne room, all was commotion. Anna made it to the foot of the dais before they surrounded her. The king noticed.

“What is the meaning of this?” he cried. “Thou – after I took thee in and treated thee as a guest, now thou runst about the Blackwatch causing all this fuss. Well? Speak up!”

Anna put on her shield as well, and pointed her sword at the frog king. “You are in rebellion,” she declared. “And you did not take me in as a guest. I was your prisoner, and there’s no sense in denying that.”

“Nonsense!” screamed the frog king and he slammed the arm of his throne with a clenched fist. “Thou’rt out of line! I’ll have thee hamstrung for this, I’ll – ”

He was interrupted by a terrible screeching noise, the sound of a giant metal grating being yanked from a vent. The stained glass acquired a shadow and, all at once, shattered as the metal grating in the wall above the dais came out. It disappeared into the black shaft beyond, and through it and the shattered glass came the dragon, huge and red. He landed with a crash on the dais, crushing the reed throne beneath him just heartbeats after Ser Glenn yanked the king away. The two of them tumbled down the dais to the side, just barely avoiding the falling dragon.

Nidhogg roared.

All around the room oglins scrambled to attention, stuck between leveling their spears at the dragon and Anna. Pure terror filled the room, screams of horror and exclamation. “The demon! The demon! Kill it!”

The dragon puffed his cheeks and blew. A gout of flame streamed across the air to paint the surroundings of the hall in fire. Every exit was blocked, and the dancing flames cast malevolent shadows in every direction. He whipped his tail in a frenzied slash, smashing apart two pillars. They collapsed in a ruddy heap of stone and mortar.

“You’ve unleashed the _demon!”_ screamed the king. _“Ser Glenn!”_

Ser Glenn drew his sword.

Every fire in the room dimmed. Nidhogg cowered. The blade glowed gold and red and drank in every spare particle of light.

It was Hinoken, long and gold and red and curved in a way that reflected the light like burning embers.

“My great ancestor, Ser Cyrus, had the privilege of putting thee down, Nidhogg,” said Ser Glenn, eyes focused inexorably on the dragon. “After him came the Legendary Hero. I only hope I am worthy to inherit their legacy.”

“The blade,” said Nidhogg wearily, cowering.

“Thou canst do naught!” shouted Ser Glenn. “So long as we hold Hinoken, thou art _ours_ to command. Now _back – back, I say –_ ”

The work of another moment had Anna standing between the advancing oglin knight and the cowering red dragon.

“Ser Anna,” said Ser Glenn. “Thou meanst to stand in defense of this demon?”

“You betrayed him first,” said Anna, “a long time ago. Did you not?”

“Of course we didst not,” said Ser Glenn, face hard. “Every oglin knows the truth of the demon. We are told the tale from birth.”

“A lie passed down for generations,” said Anna.

“’Tis not a lie,” insisted Ser Glenn.

“How would you know if it was?” said Anna heatedly. “And even so, what gives you the right to make a slave of him? For hundreds or thousands of years? You don’t think that’s paid the debt back some?”

Ser Glenn scowled. “’Tis not my place to question. I have a duty.”

Anna raised her sword and shield. “As have I.”

Steel met steel. Ser Glenn moved like water, fast and agile and impossible to pin down. Where Anna struck, he was not; and he danced through the moves with impossible grace and sophistication. His blows came hard and rained on her shield, and he spun around her as much as she spun around him.

He was fast, Anna recognized; but she was stronger. _Meet his blows or power through them._

Hinoken came whistling through the air, red and gold and flashing. She took it on her shield and bull-rushed. Ser Glenn staggered. She struck and he dodged. His next strike met Autumn. She parried the blow – up, and then cut in. A glancing blow across his chest.

By now the surrounding men were trying to get involved. The dragon’s tail whipped lashingly and kept them at bay, and it was just the distraction Anna needed. Ser Glenn looked at the dragon instead of her, and her sword struck true, piercing the cuirass and the gut behind it.

Only then did Ser Glenn look at her, with the look of one who had never seen a human before, and Anna realized, then, that he did not know who his true enemy was, even when it looked him in the face.

“I only did my duty,” Ser Glenn croaked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Is it true? Was I wrong?”

What could she say? She said nothing, and he died on her sword. Hinoken hit the ground with a clatter. She pulled Autumn out and pressed her boot on Hinoken. The flames in the hall roared with renewed life.

All the rest hit the ground, cowering. The frog king’s knees quivered, his eyes rolled.

“Give me the golden shard, and renounce your kingdom, and you can have your life,” Anna told him.

A moment passed. The frog king nodded. “I accept thy terms.”

Another moment passed. The dragon had the frog king in its mouth. He crunched.

“What did you do that for?” Anna yelled. “I promised him – ”

“ _You_ promised,” snapped the dragon in a spray of oglin blood. The flames died away and all the oglins in the hall fled out every exit they could find. “ _I_ did no such thing. You do not speak for me, little human.”

“You didn’t have to kill him,” said Anna. She sheathed Autumn and picked up Hinoken.

The dragon eyed her suspiciously. “So now _you_ will turn the blade against me?”

“Of course not,” said Anna derisively. She threw the sword down at the dragon’s feet. Without a second’s thought, the dragon put his paw on it and crushed it.

The dragon did not speak, only looked at its paw, beneath which were the crushed remains of its heaviest shackle. “It has been a long, long time since I felt like I could trust a one. I owe you a great debt.” The dragon snorted scornfully, jets of steam shooting from its nostrils. “Ha! And that is why I am in this mess. Tell me, what good are principles when they are the cause of all a one’s woes?”

The dragon lifted one claw and carefully scraped a symbol in the rock floor.

“Behold this symbol.” It was a triangle circumscribed by a circle, inside of which was four crescent arcs arranged in a circular fashion. “This is a sigil of the most basic of fire magic. The element of destruction. I will say to you now the words that awaken it.”

Anna did not remember hearing the words, but she did remember the dull, pulsing throbbing that persisted afterwards, and the terrible headache that forced her to her knees.

“Mortals. Show them just a little bit of the ether, and they lose all composure. I wonder how the Ice Queen managed anything when the entire _vista_ was hers.”

The dragon was gone, snaked up the hole he entered by and up the shaft, by the time Anna staggered to her feet. She blinked, and then looked at the symbol.

The word “bombos” passed her lips.

The symbol exploded, and the force of the eruption threw her backwards, yelling. She slammed against the ground and groaned. Slowly, she got back to her feet again, though apparently no worse for the wear – except for a pain in her rear where she had fallen. The ground where the symbol was was now only a smoking crater.

Then a distant golden glow on the dais caught her eye. Among the wreckage of the reed throne was the golden shard, glowing innocently. Dark thoughts wandered across her mind as she picked it up, foggy and distant. She stowed it away.

Anna tried not to think about anything too much as she climbed the tunnels and emerged from the deep and now-deserted caverns. She was unsuccessful. The air was stale and cold. It was snowing, and snowflakes fell between the cracks in the canopy to rest lightly on the swift-cooling ground.

 


	17. The Prodigal Daughter

“No, ser, lift your elbows a little bit – that’s right. Now keep it steady. Look down the shaft, keep the bowstring taut, there – and release!”

The arrow traced a dismal path through the air before coming to a quivering halt, embedded in the ground some fifteen yards from the repurposed quintain.

Anna swore, her face burning in embarrassment. “I told you, Martin, I’m no good at archery.”

Martin was stunned by this outburst. “Ser, what’s the matter?”

Anna blinked and collected herself. “I – beg pardon. Lost my head for a second – just a little frustrated, that’s all.”

Martin looked sympathetically at her. “It is only a skill, like any other. You need to work at it. There’s no sense in wounding your pride over it. Yesterday, you were doing great! Just bring it together.”

“You’re right,” said Anna in a low voice, and nocked another arrow. “Well, then, let’s give it another go – ”

Thus Anna was practicing archery in the makeshift indoor range when the door to the barracks burst open. It was not-so-Little John. He shook off the blizzard snows in the portal and came up to them just as Anna loosed another shaft. It missed not as badly as the last one.

Anna’s mood had been relatively dark of late. After the oglin encounter, Anna returned to the Arenborg and unceremoniously dumped the second shard on the queen’s solar table. It was all Anna could do to not explode at Lord Hans – and the queen – for their carelessness in governing the Toadsmarsh.

She had still been chilly, though. “The oglins were risen in rebellion,” she stated bluntly.

“Were they?” said Hans unnecessarily, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes. Apparently nobody had thought to check in on them in the past three months, so they declared their independence and we were never the wiser.”

To Anna’s satisfaction, the queen appeared suitably dismayed by this news. “But why?” she asked quietly. “Did you make it out all right?”

“I don’t know,” said Anna, answering both the queen’s questions simultaneously. “It may have been because nobody told them they couldn’t.”

Hans stroked his jaw. “What of it now? Do we need to add the Toadsmarsh to our list of concerns?”

“I think not,” said Anna coolly. “I said they _were_ risen. I put them down.” With help from a dragon, but – she left that unsaid.

Quiet; then, “And what of the piece?” Lord Hans leaned forward.

Then Anna dumped it out. “There it is. Four left, yeah?”

Queen Elsa glowed with an understated aura of relief. “Four left.”

Days later, Anna was still brooding over it. The temptation to corner the queen and just _talk_ reared up in her like an impatient animal. But she kept it down. _Just do your duty._ Even that meant less and less with each passing day.

There were other reasons for her mood as well. For the moment, she was thinking about writing a sixth letter to Kristoff, and was chewing the inside of her cheek trying to work out where the letters weren’t getting through. Master Kai insisted they ought all be reaching Burrowstown, and from there it was the Lord Mayor’s lookout. And so she had the growing suspicion that Lord Edward was, for some reason, intercepting Kristoff’s letters, or something like that.

“Ser Anna,” addressed Little John as he came up.

Anna lowered the tall yew bow and looked at Little John. “Yes?” she inquired.

“Someone at the gate is calling on you,” said Little John. “Ser Puck is attending now, but – the man asked specifically for you. He insisted. So Ser said, ‘Okay, if I bring her out here, and she doesn’t recognize you, can I cut out your tongue?’ and the man said ‘Yes.’”

“So you want me to help Ser Puck settle a wager?” asked Anna skeptically.

“If you would,” said Little John sheepishly.

Anna turned over the bow and arrows to Martin and followed Little John to the gate. Sounds of loud discussion preceded the scene of a loud confrontation. Ser Puck was arguing with a shabbily-dressed blond man who had a fur cap and a reindeer. Anna’s heart jumped.

“It’s clear you just don’t know anything about ice,” said the blond man.

“What’s there to know? It’s just ice,” said Ser Puck.

“Just ice!” repeated the blond man, waving his arms emphatically.

“Kristoff!” shouted Anna.

She sprinted the rest of the way to the gate, where a nonplussed and flustered Kristoff received her bear hug. “Oh, feisty- erm, Anna!” he said, all thoughts of his previous confrontation gone.

“Oh, it’s good to see you!” said Anna, pulling away. “Gods, it feels like it’s been ages!”

Ser Puck cleared his throat. “Ah, um, so – you _do_ know him?”

“Oh yes, absolutely,” said Anna. “Kristoff is one of my closest friends.”

Ser Puck’s jaw dropped, and his poise slacked.

“So,” said Kristoff with a triumphant smirk in Ser Puck’s direction, “you’ll put in a good word for me as Royal Ice Master, then?”

“There is no such thing,” said Ser Puck.

“Well, maybe now there can be?”

Anna blinked between the two of them. “What’s going on? What did I stumble in on?”

“Oh, nothing. This knight here just bet me that if you did recognize me, he’d lobby for me to take up the post as Royal Ice Master & Deliverer.”

“Ah. But, Kristoff – there is no such post as that.”

“ _Yet,_ ” said Kristoff.

Anna smiled. “So what brings you to Crystalwater? Ah – never mind. First we ought get out of this snow.”

An absolute ray of sunshine had broken out on Anna’s day, despite the ongoing blizzard and the attendant cloudiness that entailed. She led Kristoff to her solar, practically skipping with delight as she indicated every tapestry, window, side-hallway, corridor, painting, and stairway they chanced to pass by.

When they were settled in Anna’s solar, fire crackling warmly in the hearth, fresh pot of tea brought in by the castle servants, Kristoff’s eyes wide and all-inspecting, Anna framed the question again.

“You’re a long way from Burrowstown!” she said teasingly over the lip of her tea cup. “What brings you down here?”

All trace of humor vanished from Kristoff’s face. “Don’t tell me you don’t know.”

Anna’s smile faltered. “Don’t know what?”

“The reason I left Burrowstown,” said Kristoff, sipping his tea. “I should think it was obvious.”

“Well it obviously isn’t obvious,” snapped Anna, “or I’d know, wouldn’t I?”

Kristoff looked taken aback. He blinked several times. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. You really don’t know – wait, obviously not, yeah.” He set down his cup and leaned forward. “Lord Edward kicked the bucket this past December.”

Anna’s eyes widened. “No.”

“Yeah, and that bratty Brendan succeeded him. He’s been running Burrowstown like a – well, like a _tyrant._ He’s upped taxes, started hiring foreign mercs to serve as his own personal goons. Been building forts and outposts. I haven’t been to Burrowstown in months now. Oaken and Anders do all their business in Vardale, since Brendan banished us all.”

Anna was silent for a few moments. “And what about Astrid?”

“She’s doing all right, I think. Still living in Burrowstown; still a sworn warrior.”

Anna leaned forward and put her face in her hands, vexation trilling throughout her. “And you said that this has been going on since December?” she asked quietly, her voice slightly muffled by her palms.

Kristoff said, “More or less.”

Anna sighed a heavy sigh. “I had no idea,” she said; and the frustration returned, stronger than ever. “ _None._ Nobody told me. Not even the queen – ” She stopped. The queen would have known, for sure – but more importantly, she knew what relationship Anna had with Burrowstown.

 _Maybe they just didn’t think you needed to be bothered with it?_ came a voice in her head, conciliatory and timid.

 _Or maybe they were keeping it from you,_ came another voice, darker and strangely more confident. _Like everything else._

With a shudder, Anna jumped out of her seat and went over to the Dulocish cabinet, from where she drew out a bottle of wine. She poured an unwise amount into a wooden cup.

“Wine?” she asked Kristoff. “I feel like I need it.” She drained her cup ungracefully.

“Are you okay?”

“What?” said Anna.

“I said, ‘Are you okay?’” reiterated Kristoff. “You seem… distraught.”

Anna pointed her gaze at Kristoff. “Kristoff,” she said sharply, “how many of my letters did you receive?”

“Letters? Did you write me letters?”

“I thought so,” said Anna. “No doubt Brendan has been intercepting your mail.” Then the thoughts spilled in torrentially. _Just talk to her,_ shone out at the forefront of her mind. But she stood still, as though paralyzed, torn between a feeling of utter betrayal and the helplessness of her indecision. And then the impulse burned, flaring up. _Just talk._

She was reaching for the door to the hall when Kristoff jumped in front of her, hands held up.

“Whoa, Anna, I don’t know what’s going on, but – you have that look in your eyes.”

“That look?” repeated Anna, nonplussed.

“Yeah, the look you get when you’re about to rip someone apart and get in trouble,” said Kristoff evenly.

Anna looked down. Her hands were trembling. “I see,” she said with a twang of guilt. “It’s complicated.” She looked up at him.

“Well,” said Kristoff, “do you want to talk about it?”

And so Anna related to Kristoff the story of the past several months, skipping no details and focusing especially on the enigmatic queen, on the secrets and the quest and the political concerns, and mostly on her distant coldness.

“So you see,” said Anna at last, “I… I guess you could say I don’t really know what to do. I’ve been trying to follow my orders but sometimes I think that it’s wrong. I mean, not that it’s wrong to follow orders, but she tells me so little that it almost feels as though I _can’t._ And now I learn Brendan has been Lord Mayor for almost four months and not a one has said nary a word to me about it. No one else has my tasks or seems to relate, and the queen barely talks to me.

“At the end of the day,” Anna heard herself say, “I just feel alone.”

The words hit her with such staggering force that she nearly keeled over. “Alone,” she echoed. “I’m surrounded by people and I’ve never felt so aimless or unsure or alone.

“And I just wish that she would talk to me,” Anna finished.

Kristoff had been sitting quietly and listening attentively the whole while. He gave Anna a searching look. “You’re not alone,” he said with a cheerful lilt. “You have Martin, and Maple – and I’m sure a lot of other castle folk like you. You have the love of the common-folk, did you know that? I hear stories about you all up and down the Springway. Not all of it flattering, mind you, but then again who is ever spoken of in only flattering terms?”

Anna’s spirits rose a little bit and dropped again immediately. “I _feel_ alone,” she clarified. “I just do what I’m told.”

Kristoff sighed. “Well, from the sound of it, it seems like the solution is simple.”

“What’s that?”

“Just go talk to her.”

To which Anna looked at her feet and said, “Oh, I shouldn’t. I don’t have a _right_ to know every – ”

Kristoff interrupted her with a snap: “What? You’re risking your _life_ for her. From the sounds of it, pretty often. Based on that I’d say you have a right to a lot of things.”

“ _No,_ ” said Anna firmly. “It would be a privilege but it’s not a right. I said my vows and I made my choices. All of that independently of her. My sword is hers to direct; my life is hers to spend as she chooses.”

“Surely you deserve to know _something,_ ” said Kristoff helplessly.

“Maybe when I’ve proven myself trustworthy,” said Anna. She closed her eyes. “Until then, I just need to be patient, and – and work hard.” She sighed again and stood up, stretching out her back. “How long do you plan to stay in town? I can quarter you in the castle someplace.”

“I don’t really know,” said Kristoff. “This… this ‘magic’ snowstorm is covering almost all of southern Arendelle. Icers are running out of work, so I don’t really know what to do. I kind of just wandered down here out of a fluke.”

Anna nodded. “You can stay here as long as you want. As for me: Tomorrow I’m leaving west. The next piece lies in the heart of the Vestlandet, and the journey will take me a month or so, all said.”

“A month?” balked Kristoff with a frown. “That’s a pity. I was hoping I’d get to spend more time with you.”

Anna shrugged and recalled the conversation in the queen’s solar.

“The Vestlandet,” said Lord Hans with a nervous glance between Anna and the queen.

“ _Deep_ in the Vestlandet,” added Anna skeptically. She peered at the map, the lake with the island in the middle. “The Frozen Lake,” she read. “Is that where the next piece is?”

“We think so,” said Lord Hans. “The Frozen Lake surrounds the Lonely Island. An old shrine was erected there centuries ago. Despite the town on the lake, a small hamlet called Frusensjo, nobody ever visits the island, even today. Now, I think I can give you an idea of what you’ll be up against. Frusensjo’s history is _rife_ with stories about a monster of the lake depths, an elusive beast called the Kraken. No one living has ever seen it, and the details change from person to person – but the Kraken was one of the Ice Queen’s minions, through and through.”

“And I suppose you want me to find this elusive beast and take the golden artifact it is inevitably guarding?”

Hans laughed. “Hopefully it won’t be that bad.”

He added, “Go to Frusensjo, take a ferry to the island, and investigate the shrine. That should be all you need to do.”

Anna said to Kristoff, “Give or take a week, probably – but yes, a month.”

Kristoff’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Wait a second. You’re not going _alone_ , are you?”

“I usually go alone,” said Anna plainly.

“But not into dangerous territory rife with rebellion!”

“Actually – ”

“Let me go with you! Me and Sven. Two heads are better than one, so they say – and with Sven, we’d have three heads – and I’d be as bored as a stiff just sitting around here.”

Anna raised her eyebrows incredulously. “First of all, I already have a second head. My horse. Secondly – ”

“Four heads are better than two!” insisted Kristoff.

“I’m not sure that’s how it – ”

“Listen,” said Kristoff, standing up. “I want to help you. Really. It sounds like you could use it – no offense.”

“Kristoff, it’ll be dangerous – ”

“I don’t care about that! Me and Sven – ”

“ _Stop_ interrupting me!” shouted Anna in a sudden access of anger, stomping her foot. Kristoff yelped and jumped back, befuddled by the outburst. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly, as her anger seeped out. She let the apology sink into the ensuing silence. “Now, you listen. I don’t want to see you put into harm’s way. I am just fine on my own.”

“How do you think I feel?” replied Kristoff with cold passion. “So it’s fine that I have to watch you constantly endanger yourself, and hear about how you tried to fight thirty knights all by yourself? No, Anna. You said you’re alone, well, me and Sven are going to come along and see to that.”

As it turned out, there was nothing she could say to dissuade him.

 

* * *

 

 

If you travel north around the upper lip of the Toadsmarsh where a rivulet from the Standing River feeds the swamps, cross an arched stone bridge and continue west through a dipping valley, you enter the Vestlandet, a severely rocky and craggy terrain speckled with rivers and ponds with farms to attend them. In the Vestlandet, the members of House Corel have long ruled as Lords Paramount, from the Wings – an archipelago of rocky, fortress-like islands all around the southern coast – to the Lavlandet – the lowland region that is home to the majority of Vestland people – to the Elvelandet, where the rivers are so thick and close together they resemble long spindly fingers on a deformed hand.

The Elvelandet is the furthest and most mysterious of the three parts of the Vestlandet, and the Frozen Lake is one of the oldest and most mysterious landmarks therein. It’s not that it’s any exceptional novelty as a lake. In fact, it’s a rather ordinary lake, as far as they go. It’s big and round and has a lot of fish, and the nearby town of Frusensjo is a small, calm, quiet hamlet; most of the time.

In the center of the Frozen Lake sits the Lonely Island.

Anna reflected on all of this as she sat underneath the shade of a green leafy tree. She and Kristoff were now less than a day’s ride to Frusensjo, and it was raining. The snowstorm they left behind with the valleys, but here in the Elvelandet it was no less precipitous, albeit in a more liquid form. The canopy above did not do a great job of keeping off the rain, but it was better than nothing. Water droplets fell on her map. By the twentieth one, Anna had decided she’d seen enough, and put the map away.

Sven and Epona got along pretty well. Both of them shared a love for carrots, and they always behaved themselves in one another’s company. Sven liked it when Anna patted him. Epona at first was shy, but soon grew quite fond of Kristoff, and Anna thought that was a good sign.

The long trip also gave Anna a lot of time to practice with her boomerang and bow-and-arrow. Martin had packed her off with a nice composite bow and a quiver of well-fletched iron head arrows, which Anna suspected Martin had fletched himself. Martin still used his yew self bow, which was, by all accounts, a difficult and probably lower-quality bow than any kind anyone else in the castle used – but still managed to outshoot everyone off its back. It was a fact Anna reflected on with pride, even though she knew she was not to thank one iota for his success.

The other thing Anna practiced was a deal less conventional, and Anna wasn’t really sure how to go about it, and that was the subject of the practice. It was the contemplation of the “bombos,” spell; the magic Nidhogg had taught her to summon explosions.

The mechanics of it defied her at first. She examined the art of carving the sigil and speaking the word. Whatever the sigil was carved into would explode with a seemingly random amount of ferocity: occasionally it only fizzled, other times it would rock the earth. Anna realized early on the ferocity owed to the accuracy of the carved sigil. A near-perfect symbol produced a bigger explosion.

Then she tried drawing two sigils and saying the word. Nothing would happen, unless she was focused on one – that one would explode.

She tried turning a sigil over so that it didn’t face her, and it would not explode.

She tried showing them to Kristoff, and asking him to say the word. When he did, nothing would happen.

She tried closing her eyes and saying the word, and nothing happened.

She tried pronouncing the word different ways. It usually never changed anything. Whether she drew out the “bomb” part or the “os” part, it still exploded the same way. But only when she was finished saying the word. She found she could delay the explosion by saying, for example, “bombossssss-,” and in this case, she found she only had to see the sigil starting from the beginning of the word. So she could look at a sigil, say “bomb,” and while she was saying “osssss-” she could throw it and, in that way, cast the explosion away from her.

She felt she acquired a pretty basic idea of how the whole thing worked, though the “why” of it continued to elude her.

In time she got the hang of carving the sigil, and set about collecting chunks of bark to carve it into. These she kept on a string ring which she fastened to her belt, and she reasoned if she ever needed one she could just yank the sigil-chunk off her belt, and that would be it.

Despite being nearly three weeks into the Vestlandet, and having passed through its heart, they hadn’t run into any trouble thus far. Still, Anna knew she was deep behind enemy lines. These were Valkyrie lands, and the people, if the talk was to be believed, were deeply loyal to the Valkyrie and her rebellion.

But Anna and Kristoff had made it through just the same.

“The Valkyrie wants my head,” Anna had told Kristoff casually.

“What?” he squawked, blanching.

“Oh yes,” said Anna. “Because I beheaded her mother. She said there can be no peace unless the heads of mine, Lord Myles, and Lord Hans are delivered to her.”

Kristoff cleared his throat. “I, uh, guess we’d best be careful, then.”

Anna leaned back against a damp tree and the leather bedroll sprawled out against it. “So we’re almost to the Frozen Lake. Just a few leagues north of here.”

Kristoff nodded. “We’ll be there probably, say, tomorrow morning, then?”

“Roundabouts noon if I’m not mistaken,” said Anna. With a faint smile, she added, “Are you bored yet?”

Kristoff laughed. “Of course not. I’m on an _adventure._ An official one from the queen and stuff. This will be one to tell stories about!”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” laughed Anna in turn.

This part of the Elvelandet was a mixture of pastures, hills, rivers, and lightly-wooded thickets. Trees grew with gnarled bark and thin trunks all around the trail and up and down the rivers and hills. The brush was tame and nice to look at, and the smell of wet forest was strong. It was humid but pleasant, and the hilltop breezes were invigorating. Anna decided that she really liked this section of the country, even for all its rain. She felt like she was exploring, just as she had always wanted to do.

They went up a long, gently sloping crag and crested it to find a sweeping vista. The trail snaked down the steep end of the crag and then slipped into a forest, a huge one that swaddled a tremendous lake that touched the horizon. In the middle of the lake, a small island stood, looking dark and ephemeral in the cold, hazy half-light of the evening rains. Anna shivered with trepidation, and she could feel Kristoff felt the same way. _An adventure, how grand!_

At the side of the lake sat a humble-looking village of some two-score buildings, mostly log cabins, with some longhouses made of stacked logs – traditional Arendellit communal housing, Anna guessed. A small river went through the village, though at this distance Anna could not tell if it fed the Frozen Lake or was fed by it. In any case, there was no mistaking it: the village was Frusensjo, and that was where they were to go.

“We can camp here,” said Kristoff. “Go the rest of the way tomorrow.”

Anna agreed and they set up camp, supped on spit-cooked rabbit, and fell asleep when the first stars were trying, frowning, to sneak a peek through the raining clouds.

It was not quite noon when they passed into Frusensjo the next morning, at a point where the path hit the edge of the town and the waterfront at the same time. They proceeded forward and into the town proper, to no reception of any kind: the streets were completely deserted.

Anna looked around. There wasn’t a single soul to be seen. Kristoff put on a big frown. “People are supposed to be living here, right?” he asked.

“As far as I know,” said Anna, and they both continued further into the town. They moved away from the waterfront and up the riverbank, where the rain pattered its surface steadily. Anna noted the river did, in fact, feed the lake. They reached the end of the town, the lake now some hundred yards behind them.

“Hello?” she called out as their steeds trotted. “Hello?”

A voice called out in response. “Oi! Who’s there?”

The voice seemed to come from nowhere. “Just two travelers,” Anna called back. “I say, hello? Where are you?”

From around the corner of a log longhouse with black timber walls that stood directly on the riverbank, a head poked out. It was grizzled and had a long black beard. “Ah,” he said, “over here. Come, come, come quick!”

Anna kicked her horse into gear and Kristoff followed suit. They rounded the building’s corner and met the man with the black beard, and beheld the thick two-doored entryway to the longhouse structure.

He peered up at them. He didn’t look like he had been out in the rain long. “Aye, where are ye from?”

“Just travelers,” said Anna cautiously. “We, uh, heard of this lake, and we wanted to come see it for ourselves.” She looked about. “Where is everyone?”

“Everyone is inside. Put up your horses, ahhh, there,” he pointed vaguely in the direction of a cluster of thick-canopied trees, “and we’ll see to ‘em shortly. Can I have a name for you, eh?”

“This isn’t a horse, it’s a reindeer – ”

Anna silenced Kristoff with a wave. “I am Anna, and my companion here is Kristoff.”

“Aye, well, well met to ye, Anna and Kristoff. Kindly put up yar horses and come along. ‘Tis dangerous to be o’t here, I tell ya.”

Anna and Kristoff did as he said, and he beckoned them to the door. He was looking hurried and frantic. “Come in, come in. ‘Tis dangerous o’t here.”

“What seems to be the problem?” said Anna, frowning. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He squinted his eyes. “Well, I – I just mislike this weather.”

“‘Tis only rain, my good man. Where I come from, it’s still snowing,” said Anna with an easy smile.

“Oh yea’? In April?” said the man. “You a northerner, then? Aye, well, never mind. Hurry up inside, anyway.” He pulled the door so that it stood slightly ajar for them.

Anna proceeded inside, followed by Kristoff and the man. The door slammed shut behind them. It was gloomy and blue. Anna made out the shapes of several long tables, fire pits, and beds of straw lining the walls. One fire pit was surrounded by a cluster of dejected-looking huddled shapes, some much smaller than the others. A sound of wood hitting wood indicated the door was barred behind them.

A group of men came up to them as they entered, armed all with ugly-looking axes and spears. “Aye, who’s this?” they said.

“A traveler,” grunted the man who let them in.

“I’m Anna and this is Kristoff,” said Anna. “We’re just passing through. Why are you all in this longhouse?”

The men relaxed, and stepped forward into the dim glow of a lantern that hung above the door. Their faces were ragged, hollow and thin, their eyes sunken and baggy. “Well, ya chose a wretched time t’ come visitin’, I’ll tell ya that presently.”

“Why’s that?” said Anna.

“The lake,” said one of them; and the rest shuddered visibly. They lead her and Kristoff to a table where someone had lit a candle. By Anna’s count, much of the population of the village seemed stuffed in the longhouse, and all of them looked tired, malnourished, and afraid.

“You said something about the lake?” asked Anna when they were seated.

“Aye,” said the bearded man, who was called Black Jack, leaning in confidentially. “It’s cursed. Truly ‘tis. Monsters been coming up out of it and kidnapping our young’uns, attacking people… We’ve ‘ad to take refuge in here.”

“Monsters?” asked Anna, blinking. “What kind of monsters?”

“Like… like… well, I don’t know just what like, to be frank with ya.”

A man to his right said, “Like terrible, giant, oh, snakes. Except they got no mouth, just lots of little, eh, suckers on ‘em, I s’pose. They reach up out of the water and wrap around ya, and then pull ya down, under the waves.”

“They’re strong as an aurochs, too. Crushed poor Will Emsey just a fortnight ago, when we tried to fight back.”

“Since then, we been in here,” said another man, looking very solemn and down.

“By the gods,” said Anna. “What are you going to do?”

“Wait here,” said a man miserably, “for help to come.”

Some ale was brought out and passed around. It tasted badly but the men kindly insisted Anna have some. They said it was nice to have some company, even under the circumstances, and sent a few men out to make sure Sven and Epona were well-cared for. Anna offered some silver but they turned it down.

As for her mission, so long as the monsters were out there, it didn’t sound like she could cross to the Lonely Island. She had to think of another plan, but in every one of them, dealing with the lake in some way or another was a definite factor.

Wondering if the monsters were somehow related to the kraken of legend, Anna asked, “How long do you reckon these monsters have been about?”

Black Jack said, “Oh, I s’pose… how do y’all figure? Four moons, give or take?”

“Three-and-a-half,” was one man’s answer.

Another man cut in, “It’s this weather, I tell ya. These monsters done been this way e’er since these damnable rains started. For four moons they ain’t let up.”

Anna frowned. “The rain?”

“Oh, aye, been raining fiercely, nigh-on nonstop for four moons now.”

“That’s funny, Crystalwater has had nonstop snow for four moons, too.”

They all gave her a queer look. “Crystalwater?” said Black Jack.

“Yes,” said Anna, and she stopped a beat. The look was curious, at first, but now it was suspicious, and even savage. “Not that I’ve ever been there,” she added quickly. “Just… something I heard on the road.”

“Wait a minute,” one of the men said. “What’s yer name again?”

“It’s Anna,” said another.

“Look at her cloak – ”

They were getting up and surrounding her. Anna jumped up out of her seat and backed away, sword drawn out in a flash.

“Thar’s the ruby in the pommel! Lookit the golden crocus on ‘er shield!”

“Anna of Crystalwater,” said Black Jack darkly. They all drew their weapons.

“What are you doing?” asked Anna stupidly, and a moment too late she saw Kristoff grabbed by two men, and a third hold a knife up to his throat.

“They said t’ look for a traveler,” rasped Black Jack. “One named Anna from Crystalwater. Woman, ‘bout yea big, red hair, green outfit, golden crocus cloak and shield, folded-steel sword with a ruby in the pommel. Knight of Crystalwater. Lady Protector. Murderer of Lady Ysmir.”

“I – I…” Anna couldn’t phrase a rebuttal. She stared wildly between the men – and Kristoff.

“Lay down yer arms, Green Devil.” The men jerked Kristoff. A trickle of blood went down his neck. “Or we stick yer friend like a pig.”

And just like that, the fight drained out of her like a sieve. She dropped her sword. “I yield,” she croaked. Strong arms grabbed her from all sides and bound her up.

She was deposited in the corner of the longhouse, away from Kristoff, her gear all confiscated. They dumped her on a bed of straw with disconsolate, remorseful looks between them.

“Might be we can eat their horses?” one suggested.

“No!” yelped Anna.

“Shut up.”

“No,” agreed another. “The Valkyrie may have need of them as well. Could be payment for getting rid o’ the monsters.”

A man brought Anna a chunk of bread when the sun was going down and fires were being lit. “Eat,” he commanded her.

“How can I eat it? You tied my hands,” said Anna.

“Better odds than Lady Ysmir has,” he spat, and threw the bread down into her lap.

The men drank a listless toast to the capture of the Lady Protector, and after they supped, one stout man with a long brown beard came over and sat watch over her. His eyes were a mixture of pity and annoyance and he pursed his lips when he saw her.

“Ya shouldn’t-a came here,” he said informatively. “Why ya came?”

“On a mission from the queen,” said Anna.

“Aye, well, that’s what ya say. More likely doin’ more o’ the Lord Chancellor’s dirty work, I say,” he grunted.

“Sounds like you’ve already made up your mind.”

“Aw, shoot. You ain’t know me. I done had both my kids kidnapped by that monster. You ask me my opinion, I say we forget about no corrupt lords ‘n’ ladies ‘till our damn backyard privy ain’t full o’ snakes. But so long as yer gonna march yerself into our hands, well, might make use o’ it. The Valkyrie’ll pay a handsome bounty on you, might even ‘ave ‘er knights kill that monster. Good thing we knew you was coming.”

Anna looked up sharply. “You knew I was coming?”

“Oh. Oops. Shouldnae said that,” said the man bashfully, looking away.

“Wait,” said Anna. “How could you know I was coming? Do you have an informant in the Arenborg?”

When the man said nothing, Anna slouched back. “I might have helped you fight the monsters,” she said desolately.

The man snorted. “You? What can a girl yer size do?”

“Untie me, and hand me a sword, and you’ll find out.”

“Bah,” said the man. “Ya got a lively spirit, I’ll give ya that.”

“If you let me go, I’d get your kids back,” Anna tried.

“Hehmph, nice try, but – ol’ Rodge ain’t so easily hoodwinked. The Valkyrie’s coming down from the east, I reckon she done pounded the road soon as she heard you was comin’. Most like she’ll be here on the morrow.”

He turned his chair around and let her alone, and when they put out the night fires and darkness fell over the longhouse, Anna fell asleep in the straw to the sound of the relentless down pouring of rain.

The next day, Anna awoke to sounds of commotion. A number of men in chainmail and blue-and-violet surcoats were now standing in the hall, casting occasional glances in her direction. When she sat up, they came over.

“You’re Anna?”

“Yes.”

“Of Crystalwater?”

“Yes.”

“Who murdered Lady Ysmir?”

Anna paused. “Yes,” she said at last.

One of them kicked her in the gut, obliterating her breath. She gasped and choked, keeling over.

“All right,” said the man who kicked her. “Her Ladyship is outside. Let’s get this over with – and bring her friend, too. He can get the same after her.”

It was still raining outside. Two men in surcoats escorted her by the arms, pushing her along roughly. Rodge brought her gear as an offering. About fifty men, all ahorse, occupied the small stretch between the end of the village and the surrounding forest. Many of them had winged helmets or wore purple-colored hoods, and their flags bore the design of house Corel: a spread falcon of red on blue and yellow stripes.

Riding between them, astride a brilliant white mare with a silver mane, her full plate armor a gray-and-blue affair, as plain as rain, was a tall woman whose long black hair flowed out from beneath her metal greathelm. The vision slit was expanded and her face, tan and smooth and devilishly attractive, was clearly visible. She wore no cape; on her back was a quiver stuffed with arrows, over which hung a magnificent blue bow. In her right hand she held a tall glaive, its tip a huge wicked cleaver of steel, from which hung two tattered blue pennants.

Her burning violet eyes found Anna’s and she drove her horse over purposefully. Anna was forced to her knees in the mud. And the woman – who was easily six feet tall if she was an inch – towered over her.

And then all was silence. The horsemen, the villagers, and the men who had brought her out here were all quiet as the grave, and staring at her. And the woman on the horse, who Anna knew must be the Valkyrie – her stare was the hardest of them all.

“So,” she said down to Anna, in a clear and confident voice, stentorian in its aspects. “You’re my mother’s murderer.”

Anna said, “I guess I am,” and hung her head.

“As long as you know the charges against you,” said the Valkyrie with a nod. “Only blood can redeem blood. Since you wielded the sword that beheaded my mother, I’ll extend you the same courtesy.” She turned her head to one of the men at Anna’s side. “Take her to the block. It’s set up on the shore.”

“The shore, m’lady?” piped up Black Jack suddenly. The villagers, who had already looked somewhat uncomfortable, now looked mortified.

“Yes, the shore,” said the Valkyrie patiently. “We’ll send her head to the queen in a box, and her body we’ll give a proper Arendellit funeral.”

The villagers all looked at each other. “Well, y’see, m’lady,” mumbled Black Jack, “it’s just, the lake – there’s somethin’ wrong with it…”

The Valkyrie blinked at him. “Has the lake got water in it?”

“Yes, m’lady, but – ”

“Enough to put a funeral barge on?”

“Yes, but – ”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is,” she said coolly. “Enough chatter. We end this now. The triumvirate becomes a duumvirate today.”

A mixed cheer went up at that, with the knights banging the ends of their weapons against their shields. They dismounted their many horses underneath a canopy of hastily-erected pavilions, where squires and attendants saw to them. Then, led by the Valkyrie, and Anna, flanked by her captors, the fifty knights and nervous villagers went to the lakeside.

The lake was placid, almost impossibly so for how much water had to be falling on it. The raindrops appeared to form no impression on the surface, or at least the barest one – the implication of an impression. Other than that, the water was still. Very, very still.

They formed a semicircle around a chopping block that was set firmly by the side of the water. The Valkyrie dismounted and held her glaive horizontally in both hands. She kept her eyes locked on the chopping block.

Kristoff was here, too, and he was wrestling against his restraints. “No, stop, you can’t do this – ” he pleaded.

“Maybe we should do him first?” suggested one of the knights.

“No,” said the Valkyrie. “I don’t know who he is. I don’t want him harmed.”

“But, my lady – ”

“Enough,” she said. “Bring her forward.”

Anna’s escorts pushed her to the chopping block, where heavy hands forced her to her knees.

Anna looked up at her executioner, who looked back.

“How old are you, Ser Anna?” asked the Valkyrie.

“Fifteen,” said Anna.

“You know why I must do this, yes?”

“Of course. I’d do the same thing in your place.”

“Do you have any last words?”

The mortal panic hit her like a ram. Tears speckled her eyes. “Only that I’m sorry to have failed in my duty,” she whispered, her voice too low to be heard by anyone. She briefly struggled against her restraints, but it was futile. The heavy hand grabbed her neck and pushed it down to the chopping block. She opened her stinging eyes and beheld the lake, placid and pristine, smooth except for a growing ripple.

“Watch out!” someone screamed.

A _thwump_ hit Anna’s ears the same time she felt the tremor. Something slammed against the shore and some men cried out in pain. Anna fell off the chopping block. Reeling, she looked around at the scene. Knights were scrambling to draw their weapons as long, thick snakelike tendrils lined with suckers slammed the shore over and over, knocking men aside like ragdolls. She swiveled her head for the lake, where now, when the water was so placid before, it was now alive with easily two-dozen of the snake things.

But they weren’t snakes. They were tentacles.

It was the Kraken.

One tentacle barreled directly at her.

Anna rolled away just as she caught a sliver of steel as the Valkyrie’s glaive intercepted the tentacle with a mighty chop. Thick red blood spurted from a wound in the tentacle, and a stygian roar warbled out from the depths.

Anna struggled up to her feet. “The prisoner!” someone yelled, “get the – ”

Another scream eliminated all other sounds and thoughts from her mind. Anna’s eyes caught the motion and her face froze in horror. A tentacle slammed a man and flicked away another, then moving to wrap around the boy who stood between them.

_No._

Kristoff was yelling as the tentacle hoisted him up. Higher and higher he went until the tentacle towered over all, the boy tightly in its grasp.

Anna’s arms snapped apart, and the rope that bound them fell to the ground in a pile of useless ripped tatters. She bounded up to Rodge and snatched her sword from his hand. Before he could lower his jaw to sound his protest, Autumn was out of its sheathe and Anna was thigh-deep in the water, slashing at the tentacles blindly.

One came down at her. She jumped to the side and slashed. Autumn ripped through the rubbery flesh with a snap and a crack, and the tentacle fell to the ground in a writhing of nerves. The bloody stump retreated under the waves, and a roar shook the earth. The water parted, and out of the depths came a huge, indescribable thing, like some giant whale – its jaw huge and jagged, filled with uneven teeth, and all around it a wreath of squirming tentacles. Three huge eyes sat bright and green on its brow, tiny black pupils in all of them – and they all were directed at Anna.

The Kraken opened its mouth and bellowed. Three more tentacles came. Two got the same treatment as the first, but the third snagged Anna by the ankle and yanked her up. She kept her grip on Autumn, but only barely – the world was spinning around her head.

Suddenly the beast roared again. The spinning stopped. She was twenty feet above the Kraken’s head, and lodged in the middle eye, amidst a growing mist of milky red, was a long black arrow. On the shore, the Valkyrie was nocking another.

Anna swung at her ankle, aiming for where she knew the captor tentacle to be. It hit home, and Autumn thrummed. Now she was in free fall, plummeting for the Kraken’s head. She held out her sword and plunged into the middle eye. The Kraken’s scream was ear-splitting. It bucked and thrashed and Anna yanked the sword free. The beast threw her onto the shore and retreated under the water.

The last tentacle to go down was the one that still held Kristoff.

“Kristoff!” Anna screamed. She was in shallow water. On her feet, she screamed again: “Kristoff!”

She swung her sword again and again, but Kristoff was gone, beneath the waves. Anna sank to her knees. “Kristoff,” she wept into the lake.

Hands grabbed her, but she did not resist. They pulled her ashore.

“By the gods,” lamented a voice, “look at all the dead…”

“What _was_ that thing?”

“My lady, we have a dozen wounded, and Ser Kimberly might be dead.”

Anna looked. The Valkyrie was visibly shaken, her beautiful blue bow clasped in her hands. Anna noticed it had a sapphire mounted in the riser, smooth and round, right athwart the bow window. And she noticed the Valkyrie was looking very pale and ill-at-ease. It was then Anna realized she was most likely no more than 20-years old.

“It was a mistake to do this here,” she said quietly, and turned on Black Jack with a look. “I assume this is what you meant when you said there was something wrong with the lake.”

Black Jack uttered a feeble, “Yes, m’lady.”

“Well, for gods’ sakes, you could have been a bit more specific, man,” she said, agitated, and turned back to one of her knights. “Any other casualties?”

“My lady, the boy – the one who was with Ser Anna – he was taken under the waves.”

“Poor soul,” said the Valkyrie, shaking her head. “So, that leaves one thing – dealing with this monster?”

“No, my lady,” said the knight. “You saw how brazenly it attacked us. Fifty knights in all, and it was not cowed a lick. I say we go up river, finish the execution, and put the girl’s body downstream. It’ll go to the same place.”

The Valkyrie’s mouth was already twisted in a frown before Rodge let out a cry of protest. “Wait! Ya don’t mean t’ just leave us with this monster?”

“Look, man,” said the knight. “What can we do? You saw for yourself – ”

“What I _saw_ was this Ser Anna take the line while the rest of ye was pissin’ yer pants!” growled Rodge. “That thing took my kids!”

An affirmation went up from the villagers.

“Too damn bad. One freakish demon or not, we still don’t hold a candle to that thing,” spat the knight.

Rodge opened his mouth to protest, but Black Jack put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m afraid ‘e’s right, Rodge. We can do naught. I reckon it’s time we moved on. The monster can’t be killed.”

“You’re wrong,” said Anna suddenly, and she rose to her feet on quivering knees. She straightened up, her mind churning rapidly as an idea began to form.

“Silence, murderer,” barked the knight, and he put his hand on his sword handle.

“Listen to me,” said Anna sharply, and she gave the knight a cool look. “That thing – that monster – is called the Kraken. The Queen knew about it, and that’s why I’m here. She sent me to kill it.”

The crowd hushed. “Yer not _serious?_ ” said Black Jack, appalled. “But you… yer just…”

“That’s what I was sent to do,” said Anna. “The Queen heard of a terrible monster in these parts and sent me to deal with it. But more importantly, she told me the secret of how to kill it.” Anna turned and pointed at the Lonely Island, in the middle of the lake. “It lies on that island. Now, if you still want to execute me, have at it – but I can kill this monster for you. And I _will_ , if you let me.”

The villagers and the knights looked at each other, and then at the Valkyrie, who was fingering her bowstring with a heavy frown.

“You have still committed a terrible crime, and must be punished for it,” said the Valkyrie slowly. “…And yet, this monster is terrorizing my people. It might be that… for now… we can… make a common cause.”

That was all that Anna needed to hear.

 

* * *

 

Somehow, the river galley got them to the island unmolested by the beast. They stood like bristles all around the vessel’s edge, arms outstretched, weapons at the ready. Anna’s private concern had been that the Kraken would just crush the vessel wholesale, but she thought – hoped, really – it would be too busy nursing its wounds to care.

A contingent of ten knights, and the Valkyrie, and Anna, re-outfitted with her arms and equipment, made landfall on the Lonely Island, the first humans to do so in a long time.

Anna could feel the oldness of the place. Ancient trees with wild growth tangled up the edges of the island, all but concealing a pathway of wooden slats that went up the rise to the island’s center. It was quiet, here, quieter than nature usually is. Except for the patter of rain and the sound of their footsteps, no noise was heard.

“We seem to have made it over all right,” said a knight, the one to whom the Valkyrie had been conferring with earlier. His name was Ser Cedar, and he was constantly helmeted, so his voice had a tendency to boom. Anna considered warning the knights about the dangers of going aboat with full armor, specifically the dangers of drowning, but thought they already knew, or didn’t care, and she didn’t want to press her luck.

The slatted pathway wound back and forth up the face of the tall hill, in between thin, quiet trees, all in the process of regaining their leaves in preparation for the summer. At last they came to a tall, stone building, like a marble temple. Colonnades held a roof up over the entrance, which was a tall set of carved stone double doors, shut tight.

“So how do we get in?” asked one of the knights, as Anna stepped forth to inspect the doors. The Valkyrie came up also.

“We could try pushing,” she suggested.

So as many knights as could line up along the doors tried pushing the doors in, but they did not budge even an inch.

“Any other ideas?”

Anna looked the door up and down, and then got an idea. “You all might want to stand back for this,” she warned. Carefully, she pulled one of the sigil-pieces off her belt, placed it against the door, backed up several paces, and said, “Bombos.”

A cracking explosion issued forth, and the symbol and doorway exploded into shards of rock. The pieces flew all around, but mercifully strayed clear of any injuring trajectories. The smoking remains of the door revealed the cavernous blackness of the chamber within.

“Witchcraft,” swore Ser Cedar.

“Light your torches,” said the Valkyrie. “It looks dark in there.”

They entered the stone building and found it immediately introduced a spiral stairway going down. They passed down several flights when the stairway let out into an enormous cavern that was, surprisingly, lit by an eerie blue light. It was massive and housed an underground lake, no doubt connected to the lake outside, and the lake seemed to cast a cold blue glow all around the room. All around the surroundings of the room ran walkways of gravel and wet rock and sand. Before them, between them and the lake, was an altar of some kind – a monument with writing on it.

Slowly, the party approached the monument. “Weapons out,” ordered the Valkyrie. “This place raises my hackles.”

Anna did not heed the order, instead she found herself drawn to the monument.

“What’s this, then?” asked Ser Cedar.

Anna tilted her head and read,

_I found thee angry in these depths forsaken,_

_A beast primeval, proud, and very old,_

_Wherefore the bottom did thou they taken,_

_And fromest thou all manner’s heartless gold._

_But as time passes, so seasons do too,_

_And all earth’s good things must come to their ends,_

_This fact, above others, I think thou knew,_

_Time’s passage wounds so much more than it mends._

_So thou thought mayhaps thou hast no purpose,_

_And so my gift to thee is that thou seek,_

_Life of reason for the thinking Wordless,_

_The river fed by thine babbling creek._

_And so from thee I ask thy servitude,_

_In return I giveth mine gratitude._

“You can read that?” asked one of the knights with a puzzled frown.

“Yes,” said Anna wearily, “I can read.”

“You can read _that?_ ” he repeated, and pointed. “What letters are those? I’ve never seen their like before.”

Anna blinked and looked again. For a moment, the image shifted. She saw the words as clear as day, but in the moment the knight pointed it out, it was as if she beheld an illusion, or a double-image, and it flipped her mind. No, the words were not written in Arendellit, nor in any alphabet that made sense to her. It was scribbles, strange and flowing, a bizarre script that seemed to have no definable end or beginning. And as she looked closer, it flipped back. They were words again, totally comprehensible.

“I… I guess so,” said Anna, flabbergasted.

The Valkyrie considered Anna for a moment. “It makes no difference: That poem made little sense to me. To whom do you suppose it speaks?”

Anna thought. “I think it’s a prayer, or a pledge, or some-such… intended for the Kraken. Though I don’t know who would have written such a thing.”

“Probably whoever built this temple,” said the Valkyrie. She looked around. “Rather empty, though. Spread out – search the walls of this cavern. You, Ser Anna, come with me.”

The knights fanned out, heading for all corners of the cavern. The Valkyrie motioned to Anna and walked off down one side-passage around the lake. Anna had to walk quickly to keep up with the Valkyrie’s long strides.

“Ser Anna,” said the Valkyrie as they walked. “I have a question I was hoping you could answer.”

“All right,” said Anna.

“You see, news of my mother’s death came to me in the form of a severed head,” she said, and turned her head slightly to see Anna’s reaction.

Anna swallowed. “I… did not know that. That was ill done.”

“It was, indeed,” agreed the Valkyrie. “I’m not a sentimental woman, but I was rather fond of my mother, as far as people go. Hence the situation we find ourselves in now. Still, now that I have had time to reflect on it, I have found myself wondering what exactly would impel someone to do something as provoking as that.”

“I’m not sure I follow your meaning,” said Anna with a frown.

“Oh dear, my mother _said_ you were stupid,” said the Valkyrie flatly. Anna reddened visibly and knitted her eyebrows, and the Valkyrie smirked. “Just think about it. All I know about you is that you swung the sword. But all smallfolk traveling from the east only speak of your valor. One has to admit, there’s a convincing case for it, what with that Weselton debacle. Unfortunately,” the Valkyrie stopped as they approached a large, cracked section of wall, “my mother was not a traitor.”

Still frowning, Anna said, “I’m afraid you’re wrong, m’lady. She was a traitor. I saw so myself.”

“I have no doubts about what you _saw_ ,” said the Valkyrie. “But my mother was not a traitor. Now, then – this section of wall,” the Valkyrie indicated it with a sweep of the hand, “it seems out of place here. Like a mere pile of rocks. Do you see?”

Anna tore her eyes away from the Valkyrie and looked at the wall. On close inspection, it did appear somewhat out of place, like the parts of it did not quite fit together, or it was a collection of jammed-together chunks of rock. “Yes, I think so,” she said.

“I want you to do your exploding trick on this wall,” said the Valkyrie.

Anna nodded, ripped off one of her sigil-pieces, and placed it in a crack in the wall. She and the Valkyrie both backed up. “Bombos,” said Anna, and it exploded. When the dust cleared, a passageway was revealed that seemed to lead deeper into the cave.

“Perfect,” said the Valkyrie. “We’ll explore this segment. My men can hold the fort here.”

“That was well-observed,” said Anna as they descended into the passageway. It also seemed lit, by some iridescent blue glow that seemed reflected off the walls yet had no source.

“My mother taught me well,” said the Valkyrie, and they both stopped talking.

The passage started to wind down in a spiral fashion, and slowly they made their way. As they went, every little sound seemed magnified by echoes that ran up and down the passage, and the omnipresent dripping of water thudded Anna’s ears.

Finally the passage leveled off and opened into a long cavern. It was deathly cold down here, and the walls glowed blue. The ceiling was high and studded with stalactites, and in contrast to the walls, seemed even to glow white. At the far end of the cavern was a long flat wall with a number of holes carved into it, and through the holes a number of pale, green fleshy growths sat throbbing.

“What in the name of the gods is that?” said the Valkyrie hoarsely. Holding her glaive at the ready, she marched forward. Anna followed behind, looking up the walls and the now innumerable twisty passages that led out through the cavern’s many sides. She made a mental note of the passage they had come in.

The fleshy growths were pulsing rhythmically, all in time with one another. There were perhaps a dozen of them. As they approached, the growths seemed to pulse faster.

“What are they, do you think?” said the Valkyrie in awe.

“I don’t know,” said Anna, who had moved on to inspecting the mess of some crusted-over remains nearby. They seemed to be like nests where, Anna supposed, more growths had been until very recently.

The Valkyrie made a sudden exclamation. “Ser Anna! Look – ” But before she could say anything else, a snarl interrupted them. Anna spun around just as the scimitar came down on her. She twisted sideways and it missed narrowly. Sword and shield – up.

The thing holding the scimitar looked like a man, tall and gangly with pale white fleshy skin. Its head was a mottle of blue and green, and its eyes pools of green with sharp black pupils. Its mouth was purple and scarred and filled with jagged teeth, and it had no nose. Along its neck, flaps like gills sputtered in the air. Its hands and feet were webbed and mottled blue, and it held a jagged-edged curved scimitar.

To her right, Anna saw the Valkyrie locked in battle with another one of the things. But there was no time to think about it. Anna’s came again, scimitar whistling through the air. She blocked with her shield forcefully, and the monster stumbled back. She leaped in and won a jab at his chest. Thin red blood spurted out and it cried in pain. It slashed again, and again, with renewed ferocity. Anna blocked once, twice. Another cry of pain from her right, louder and more drawn out. Anna jumped with a slash, but the monster dodged and returned his own. She blocked and lost her balance for a split second before spinning on her heels to jab again.

But the blow never landed. The Valkyrie’s glaive slashed through the monster like a cleaver through a haunch of meat. It crumpled to the ground, thoroughly in two parts. Anna stared at its remains.

“Nicely done,” she said in spite of herself.

The Valkyrie said in a shaky voice, “This is not natural. These are Zora – water demons. I thought… I thought they were just a legend, a children’s story. But now I remember. In the tales, a beast of the water kidnapped children and grew them into Zora.”

Anna understood at once. Together they looked at the pulsing growths.

“No,” gasped Anna. She stepped forward for a closer look. Sure enough, beneath the pale translucent skin of the growth, she could see a humanoid figure, like a bare shadow beneath ice.

“We have to cut them open,” declared the Valkyrie – and before Anna could voice a protest, her glaive pierced the skin of one growth and spilled its contents out. A drenched and slime-covered Kristoff poured out.

“Oh!” yelped Anna, and she fell to his side. “Kristoff! Kristoff! Are you okay?”

A few tense moments passed. Then, he coughed, and spat, flecks of green slime shooting into the air. He groaned.

“Where am I?” he muttered.

Anna inspected him quickly for any damage. He seemed to be okay – and then she looked up and noticed the Valkyrie was opening the rest of the growths. Young children, most of them younger than Anna, also spilled out, and after a brief inspection they all, too, seemed alive. The last pair, however, was noticeably changed.

“Webbed feet and hands,” said the Valkyrie, tapping with her foot. “At least that’s all, though. Hopefully they won’t have lost their minds.”

“Can you guys hear me?” Anna said, kneeling over them.

“Mom?” asked one, his eyes flicking open. “Mama? Where’s Papa?”

“They’re safe, in the village. Can you walk?”

Shakily, the kid sat up and struggled to his feet. “Y-Yeah,” he said. “I f-feel weird, though. W-Why is it so c-cold?”

“It’s okay. You’re going to be okay now,” said Anna, and she stood. “We need to get them out of here.”

The Valkyrie nodded her agreement, and they herded the soaking and befuddled kids up out of the cavern and up the twisty passageway.

The main chamber was as it was before, its lake plain and unaffected. Some knights ran over as they saw the kids emerge from the passage.

“Good gods! What happened here?” said Ser Cedar.

“These kids were being transformed into Zora. Yes, I said Zora,” snapped the Valkyrie sharply at the first bemused look. “Ser Anna and I slew two of them below. Get these kids to the surface – we will stay below and search out the Kraken.”

“Is that… Is that wise, my lady?”

“Trust me, and do as I say,” she said.

Ser Cedar saluted, and he and the other nine knights helped the kids, including Kristoff, back through the entry passage to the surface. Anna and the Valkyrie stayed below, and stood at the monument before the underwater lake.

“I think I know how this beast works,” said the Valkyrie, when they were alone. “He is hunting children. Look at this lake – these are his private chambers. He would not come forth before, but I think we can bait him out.”

“Like fishing,” said Anna.

“Yes, somewhat. You are a child, Ser Anna, or as near as accounts – you will need to step into the lake and get his attention.”

Anna frowned. “So _I’m_ the bait, then? For the giant, ravenous monster?”

“An hour ago, you were on the chopping block. I call this an upgrade,” said the Valkyrie dryly.

Anna had to agree with that. “Very well. I’ll go bait him out.”

The Valkyrie nodded, and drew her bow out. The sapphire glittered in the cold blue light, and she nocked one of her black arrows. Anna approached the lake and took a few tentative steps into the water. It was cold as the grave.

She splashed around a bit. “Make some noise,” called the Valkyrie.

“Ah – um – hey, you, er, you Kraken! Come out here and, er, get some of this! I’ll make a great, er, Zora!” shouted Anna and she splashed back and forth, waving Autumn around.

Something changed in the water, though it was barely noticeable. No ripples move except those of Anna’s stomping around.

“Keep going,” called the Valkyrie.

“Keep shouting?”

“No, going. Go out further.”

“What? That’s madness.”

“Well, he’s not taking the bait.”

Anna didn’t go out further. Though she’d hate to admit it, her heart was pounding. She stomped some more and looked around. The lake definitely felt different now, like it was moving as one, but still there was no sign of the beast.

Anna turned to look at the Valkyrie. “You know,” she said, “I don’t think this is – ”

She froze as she saw the tentacle, which had been snaking silently along the sides of the cavern, seize the Valkyrie by the ankle and hoist her up into the air. Her bow clattered to the ground.

She turned again just in time to see the tentacle coming at her. She slashed and cut it off. A roar filled the cavern, and the water was suddenly alive – bubbling and frothing mightily. Quickly Anna ran for shore, just as the Valkyrie flew overhead.

The tentacles erupted all at once, as the Kraken’s great hulk rose out of the waves. It opened its gaping maw and bellowed, and its two remaining eyes fixed Anna with a hateful gaze.

“My bow!” yelled the Valkyrie from above. “Use my bow!”

Anna ran up and snagged the bow, sheathing Autumn just before. She span around and nocked one of Martin’s iron head arrows. The sapphire glittered, and the bow thrummed warmly in her hands. Tentacles lashed out at her. She jumped, and jumped, and jumped again, dodging their crushing blows.

The beast bellowed and Anna looked up – the Valkyrie had drawn a dagger and was hugging her captor tentacle, stabbing it over and over again.

Anna drew back the string and leveled the arrow at the beast’s eye. She released and missed.

Another tentacle grabbed the Valkyrie’s arm, wrenching it away and forcing her to drop the dagger. “Shoot the eyes!” she yelled.

“I’m trying!” Anna yelled back.

“Try harder!”

She nocked another arrow, running up onto an outcropping of rock. The Valkyrie was between two tentacles now, and biting one of them. Anna drew back the arrow, took a deep breath, exhaled, and released.

The arrow flew true. It found the Kraken’s right eye and made it bloody. The beast howled in pain, and more tentacles came for Anna. She jumped from the outcropping and rolled across the ground, right into the path of another tentacle. It grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up with a sickening lurch.

She nocked another arrow, upside down. The bow shimmered happily in her hands. She leaned back, drew the string, and fired.

The beast howled again, its third eye impaled through. Blind, it opened its mouth in a long, drawn out roar. Anna squirmed and loosened the string of sigil-pieces on her belt, detached one, and cast it down into the beast’s gaping maw. “Bombos,” she cried, and held the last syllable until it closed its mouth again. A dampened sound reverberated through the beast, and it spat out a mess of blood and broken teeth. Stunned, it dropped her and the Valkyrie.

Anna drew out Autumn and fell into the beast’s head, point first. The Valkyrie landed in the water, and the Kraken reared up and slumped forward, its tentacles writhing weakly. Anna stabbed again, and again. The sword vibrated with every stab. _Gratitude, gratitude, gratitude,_ it thrummed.

From the water, the Valkyrie stood, water pouring out through the cracks in her armor, and watched.

By the twelfth stab, the beast had stopped moving completely, except for the occasional nervous twitch in the tips of its tentacles. Breathing heavily, and drenched in blood, Anna slipped down its face and fell into the water. She gained the shore to see the Valkyrie staring at her with wide, violet eyes.

Anna looked at her left hand. She still had the Valkyrie’s sapphire bow. “Here you go,” she said lamely, and held it out.

But the Valkyrie’s attention had moved back to the beast. “Look!” she said, and pointed.

The beast was crumbling, dissolving, as though it was being eaten by an invisible flame. The entire thing took a minute to go through, but by the time it was done, the beast was no more, and the water refused to glow. It was pitch-dark.

“Do you have a torch?” asked Anna.

Just as she said it, a glow broke out over the surface of the black water. Hovering two inches above the water’s rippling surface was a glowing golden shard, casting its ambivalent, brilliant light all around.

“What’s that?” breathed the Valkyrie.

“What I came here for,” said Anna, and she waded out and took the shard in her hand. It seemed to bulge and fade and pulse wantingly. _Servitude, servitude, servitude_ – the thought passed like a furtive whisper through her mind.

“So,” said Anna, when she stood face to face with the Valkyrie in the pale golden light of the shard. “Shall we finish the part where you kill me?”

 

* * *

 

The townsfolk had been ecstatic to hear of the death of the monster, and Rodge was so happy to see his kids alive – albeit with webbed digits – that the village all but fell on their knees before the Knight of Crystalwater. That put paid to any notion of beheading Anna then and there.

It was just as well. Anna felt like the Valkyrie wouldn’t have done it anyway.

She got that impression from their last words.

Kristoff was feeding Sven a carrot and lusting over the bag of silver the townsfolk insisted on him – the bounty on the beast. The Valkyrie ordered Ser Cedar give her and Anna a private word. Both ahorse, they sat side by side.

“So,” said the Valkyrie, “you killed my mother, and you saved my life. Only blood can redeem blood, they say – but now that I’ve met you, I have no desire whatsoever to spill yours.”

“That’s kind of you to say,” said Anna.

The Valkyrie smiled emptily and took off her helmet. Her long black hair caught the wind and whipped behind her. “You will do me the kindness of telling me why you did it.”

Anna had to look down. “They told me to. They said she was a traitor.”

“My mother was not a traitor,” said the Valkyrie. “She was a lot of bad things: Petty, vain, selfish. But she was no traitor. _I_ am a traitor.”

Anna hesitated. “Well… if your mother was no traitor, then… you deserve justice, don’t you?”

“And I thought I had it today,” said the Valkyrie with a sad smile. “How quickly our fortunes change.”

They were silent. Then the Valkyrie held out her sapphire bow. “This is called the Fairy Bow. It has been handed down from Corel to Corel for generations.”

Anna stared at it, wide-eyed. “What… You’re not giving this to me, are you?”

“All my life that I’ve used this bow, I swear I could feel it was alive,” said the Valkyrie earnestly. “Ever since you used it to kill that beast, it’s lost that feeling. Grab it and tell me what you feel.”

Anna gingerly took the bow in her hands. It whispered, dance, and sang in her hands. It felt mystical and effervescent, vivacious in the moistness of the post-rain air.

“It feels alive,” said Anna, awed.

“I call that a sign,” said the Valkyrie with a nod. “You may go in peace.”

“I don’t suppose this means that your rebellion is ended?” asked Anna tentatively.

The Valkyrie chuckled. “It is someone’s fault my mother is dead. The road of justice is twisty and unsure, and sometimes disappears into the brush. But it is there for those of us patient enough to wait for it, and no woman who walks it unflinching need fear from death. No, Ser Anna, I still want justice – but now, I do not know what it looks like.”

Anna nodded. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

The Valkyrie laid a comradely hand on Anna’s shoulder. “And I, you.” With that, she turned her white mare and rode back to the company of her fellow-travelers.

Anna watched her go, then called to Kristoff. He mounted Sven. “Giddy up,” he said, and went down the road the way they came.

It was no longer raining, and Crystalwater was 300 miles of rough land, hills, and mountains away. Anna could wait, though: she and the queen had a lot to talk about.

 


	18. The Lantern's Shadow

Anna passed underneath the outer walls of the Arenborg with a pounding heart. She fixed her eyes on the tall Queen’s Tower, and purpose resonated within her. Today was the day. Now was the time.

One look at Kristoff tempered her resolve. He had nearly died because of all this. Steeled, she grit her teeth and climbed the steps. So much that went wrong, so much that was unexplained. So much chaos and confusion and uncertainty.

There was one woman who had the answers. And she was behind that door.

Anna pounded it with a balled fist. Thud, thud, thud.

“Enter.”

Anna did.

Queen Elsa sat in her spot with a book in her lap. Her head was craned up to see the door, and her eyes widened at Anna’s entry. “Oh – Ser Anna. You’re back, then? Shall I summon Lord Hans?”

“No,” said Anna sternly, and crossed the length of the room to where she stood opposite the queen.

Elsa raised an eyebrow. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” said Anna. She took a deep breath, and spoke levelly: “No sooner did I arrive in Frusensjo than the Valkyrie’s men took me captive.”

Anna waited for a response. A sort of bewildered comprehension shadowed across the queen’s face. “Captive?” she repeated. “Then… how did…”

“I made a deal with them. I just thought you should know,” said Anna, “that there are spies in our midst, apparently privy to the secret details of my work. But frankly,” and now thousands of words crashed against the inside of Anna, trying to burst forth, “that is but a small part of the larger problem.”

Elsa stared, unblinking. “Go on.”

“I had the chance to speak with the Valkyrie,” said Anna, “at some length. She seems very convinced that her mother was not a traitor. Before you scoff, I must admit she and a few others have made some interesting points. For instance, just who is ‘Prince’ Hans anyway?”

Elsa lifted her chin. “I trust Lord Ha – ”

Anna broke her off, her volume and tempo rising. “And whose idea was it to send the late Lady Ysmir’s head to her daughter in a box? What kind of decorum is that? And are you _really_ okay with letting Lord Hans run the kingdom like it’s his own? He comes out of nowhere and just like that he has free rein? And why did nobody tell me that Lord Edward died? You didn’t think that might be important for me to know? And all the while you send me on what might be wild goose-chases into the jaws of danger, about which you nor anyone else appears to know anything, to find golden shards – which, by the way, here is your third – where but by the skin of our teeth I and others are very nearly _killed_. I mean, how could we know so little about the oglins? Why did the Valkyrie converge on Frusensjo just _hours_ after I got there? And what exactly are these golden pieces for anyway? And why does it have to be me alone who goes and gets them? Gods only help me on this next stretch, for knowing my luck every one of the kingdom’s damn enemies will be gathered there a week in advance, having tea time waiting for Anna to come along so they can string her up because, once again, she was sent into the breach with nary a word of caution except ‘Mind the door doesn’t hit you on the ass on your way out!’”

She was practically shouting now, her voice high-pitched, half-yelling and half-wailing; her face red, flushed, breathing quickly; but she could not stop. “And that’s another thing. You talk to me so little that I don’t have _any_ idea what you want from me! You don’t trust me, I know that’s it – I know I have to earn it, but you must see I’m _trying!_ I’ll do anything you ask me to. I’ll fight for you, die for you. My sword is yours. It’s not too much to ask that you recognize that, is it? Something happened between us, I know that, but what was it? If only you would tell me in no uncertain terms that I – I was a monster, or – or something – well, then I would know. But I’m utterly, completely in the dark!” Anna made a helpless gesture. “Why?” she finished.

Anna looked at the queen’s eyes, wide and deep, and searched them with all her might for the answer to the why. She searched her face, and lips, for the answer that Anna sensed played around the edges, the one hidden behind a foggy, transparent pane. This was the face of the woman to whom she had grown so close but scant months ago, something that was ripped from her unfairly. Back when Anna dressed in armor, felt, looked, and acted the part of the knight. And now she dressed in tattered tunics and wandered far and wide, and never still had she felt closer or further away. There were no more developments. She felt trapped, as in a stasis, in the never-ending middle point between touching and knowing. This was the woman whom Anna longed to know, thought she knew, with the world in her eyes, for whom she did everything and from whom she received nothing. She knew it was her job. She knew she had no right to complain. But she couldn’t take it anymore.

Anna’s every atom screamed.

The queen sat in shocked silence. “Ah,” she said at the end of it, eyelids flickering, and took in a deep breath. “It’s complicated,” she said, and let it out. “That’s all you need to know.”

“All I need to know?” yelped Anna incredulously. “I – I took this job to serve you – ”

“Then serve me,” said Elsa coolly, “and _leave_.”

“I’m _trying to help you!_ ” roared Anna. She stamped her foot. “That’s what I’m doing, right now! All this I’ve said is something you’ve just – you’ve just let it happen, locked up in here! The country is falling apart and – and then there’s this blizzard, and – and damnit, I can _help_ you, if you just let me!”

“ _Hans_ is helping me,” said Elsa unsteadily, her voice wavering. A phantom of hurt appeared in her eyes at Anna’s critique. “It’s safer that way.”

“Safer?” echoed Anna. “For whom?”

“For you.”

“For _me?_ ” Anna laughed. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been in a record low number of safe situations since I started this quest of yours!”

“And how much did _that_ hurt you?” barked Elsa, and she shot up out of her chair, eyes wild. “Look at you! None of _that_ hurts you at all! Fighting monsters or – or oglins or – whatever it is, you always come back in one piece! You’re strong – incredibly strong – you catch fish with your bare hands – you – ”

Elsa froze mid-gesticulation, eyes madly tracing Anna up and down.

“The fish. What happened that day?” Anna spoke quietly, hands shaking. “Tell me.”

Elsa’s eyes shivered. “It isn’t important.”

“It is,” insisted Anna. She took a step forward, and Elsa flinched away from her. She caught the wounded look Anna gave. “I need to know what I did to – ”

“Anna, no, it – it wasn’t you – you have to believe that…”

“Then _tell me._ ”

“I can’t,” whispered Elsa.

“Elsa,” said Anna, and her heart thudded powerfully, the edge in her voice softening as an intense, longing weariness broke through her, “please understand. I only want to help you. That’s all I want to do. And it hurts me to see you like this, to know I’m not… helping…” She knew how lame it sounded, how pitiful, but Anna was past the point of pride now.

Elsa said, “Imagine how it hurts _me_ , to see you in so much danger.”

Anna was taken aback. “What?”

Elsa stepped away again, her hands wringing together furiously. “Ever since I met you, I felt that… well… I’ve grown to care about you. And I – I can’t tell you why, but I know that you are not safe. Just trust me, please.”

Anna’s stomach was now moiling, the clumsy realization hazarding its way through her dark, unfocused mind. “Why… Why would you care about… _me?_ ”

Elsa turned away sharply, eyes screwed tightly shut. “That’s not important. All I can tell you is that I need you to trust me.” She opened her eyes again. “You are my – my knight. And there is a sorcery at work. One that I can stop, but only with the help of Lord Hans and the Golden Power. Do you understand? It wasn’t you, it was never you…” Tears speckled in the queen’s perfect blue eyes. “How could it be you? You’ve done so much for me, and I…”

Anna moved again, her gloved hands clasping the queen’s forearms. Through the clothes, they touched, and Anna met the queen’s eyes, filled with teary frost and fear. She gave a small gasp.

“My queen, I swore a solemn vow to protect and serve you always. I swear to you again I will live by that vow ‘til my dying day.”

The queen nodded slowly, eyes still wide and teary.

“And I will never allow you to come to harm,” Anna finished. “If you honestly believe that this is for the best, I will trust you, but I want… I want you to trust me, too.” Anna gave a light squeeze. “Let me help you. I promise you, no matter the cost, I will stand by you.”

Elsa’s breath caught. “No matter the cost,” she echoed coldly, and Anna felt her skin prickle. “It won’t come to that. You will pay no cost too great,” said Elsa, and her eyes, now dry, met Anna’s with a fierce determination. For several long moments, Elsa only drew quick, shallow breaths. “Three more pieces,” she said at last, “and it’s done.”

“Really, truly?” asked Anna.

“Really, truly,” smiled Elsa. Her body relaxed, the fingers on her gloved hands began to rub idle circles on Anna’s forearms. “And after that… when all this is behind us… maybe you could tell me more stories about the trolls?”

“I could tell you one right now,” suggested Anna.

“I would like that,” breathed Elsa. As far as Anna could tell, she did.

 

* * *

 

 

The moon was visible. The blizzard had admitted a brief reprieve, the first in months. Only a few snowflakes fell. Through a gap in the clouds, a waxing half-moon cast brilliant light into Anna’s chamber. It was swaddled in stars, and all the collective beams of the nighttime filled Anna’s heart.

A good omen, she reckoned.

Anna leaned on the sill and sighed heavily. Thoughts about the queen would not leave her mind. At last, she felt content. She was at the queen’s side once more, at her business, finishing the work put to her. Anna relished the thought, and relished the prospect. She felt invincible, in that moment, and dared tomorrow to bring her down. Three more pieces, and it’s done.

 _It’s done_ – those words meant so much, held so much promise and power. No more fear, no more doubts. All would be at peace. It surely had to be so. And it all rested on Anna’s shoulders. She would make things right – she, the queen’s woman, through and through.

When she slept, she dreamt. She held the final piece in her hands. It was all happy thoughts – and when she gave it to the queen, all the darkness melted away. “Call me Elsa,” she said, her voice not above a whisper – and her fingers entwined through Anna’s, cool and comforting, and pulled her closer, and closer, and she felt the cool waft of Elsa’s breath play on her forehead, and she saw Elsa’s freckles and the tickle of her eyelashes, long and velvet, and so close.

The next day she went through the motions with drive and vigor. Everything seemed brighter and better. She beamed all through breakfast as Ser Puck regaled the dining hall with news of Lord Hugoss’s successful capture of Falkberg. Afterwards, Anna went to the yards and showed the Fairy Bow – the Valkyrie’s gift – to Martin. His jaw dropped in awe.

“This is a tremendous bow,” he said, and he appreciated it all over. “M’lady, who gave this to you?”

“I would appreciate if you kept it a secret,” said Anna in a low voice, and she dipped her head. “’Twas from the Valkyrie.”

“No,” he said, bemused.

“Yes,” replied Anna. “Now, mark you know I’m no traitor.”

“Of course not,” said Martin, though he did not sound convinced.

“It was a momentary collaboration for the greater good,” said Anna.

Martin nodded. “As you say. But, still – this bow…”

It was a recurved bow, he said, tautly strung, made of beautifully painted and wonderfully wrought composite wood, and inlaid with designs in lapis lazuli. And the sapphire was not just for show – it accentuated the bow window, he said. It was almost as though it visualized the shot itself.

“And how has the castellaning been?” she asked him.

“Difficult work,” admitted Martin. “But I’ve been keeping at it. I won’t be sorry to see the end of it, come your permanent return, though, m’lady.”

Her permanent return. Just three more pieces.

She checked in on Kristoff, who was spending time in the stables with Sven. He came off well, all things said, following their adventure to the Frozen Lake. Anna had appreciated his company, but not the risk it posed to his person. She brought up that she was leaving again soon.

“And I don’t think you should come with me again,” she told him.

“What? Why not?” he came back with a puzzled frown.

“It’s too dangerous! That Kraken almost killed you!” She laid a conciliatory hand on his arm. “I appreciate the kindness of the gesture, but I value your safety more.”

Kristoff opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off with a look. Grumbling, he folded his arms and groused. “Just as well, I’d probably do best to head back north again anyway. So, how’d your meeting with the queen go?”

Anna grinned from cheek to cheek. “Great.”

Later that afternoon, Anna attended the queen in her solar, with Lord Hans, too, who reported on the location of the fourth shard.

Elsa smiled warmly at Anna’s entrance, and Anna took her knee.

“Rise, my ser knight,” said Elsa, and Anna did so.

Lord Hans looked between the two of them with a blank smile. “Three pieces got, three pieces to get – let’s jump right into it.”

Elsa leaned over the map with a shining eyes. “The Barrowings are here, north and west of the Dale and, as you can see, quite large. The edges of the Barrowings touch all from the Vestlandet, to the Dale, to the Up-And-Downs, to the Earthspine. And,” she gestured carefully, “the North Mountain. It’s mostly hills – barrows, they’re called – that contain ancient crypts from before even the time of the Ice Queen. It is sparsely populated, and ruled from the Beast’s Keep.”

Elsa leaned back and gestured to Hans, who steepled his fingers. “Now, here’s where it gets tricky. There is no Lord Paramount of the Barrowings nor, indeed, any Lords or Ladies. Whoever holds the Beast Keep rules. Usually the title goes to the firstborn of the holder, but in the Barrowings, the reality is that uprisings are common, and mortal combat is the rule of rulership. The holder of the Beast Keep is he who can hold it against pretenders, rebels, or bored party guests.

“The thrust of this is that you might be walking into a warzone.”

“I can handle it,” said Anna confidently.

Hans nodded. “That’s good to hear. It’ll be the least of your concerns. We believe the shard is located in the north part of the Barrowings, at the base of the Earthspine, here,” he pointed at a hill on the map, “is the hill in question. Ser Hiccough calls it the oldest barrow in Arendelle – the ‘Elderbarrow’ – where the first men communicated with the Other Side. It is thus a place of magic, and,” his eyes gleamed, “the supernatural.”

“So,” said Anna, “ghosts, and the like?”

“Well, ghosts and wraiths and even draugar are all little more than the animated spirits of men,” said Hans with a wave. He leaned forward, and added in a dark, smoldering voice, “But it is not only human souls that inhabit the Other Side.”

Anna shivered, and Hans noticed. He cracked a smile. “Probably can’t be more terrifying than giant wolves, angry frogs, or krakens – but just a fair warning. Most legends talk of a ghast that inhabited those crypts, but Ser Hiccough had a different account.” He stopped, and looked over at Elsa.

“Yes,” said Elsa slowly, and picked up Ser Hiccough’s journal from the table. She leafed through it quickly before stopping on a page. “Ser Hiccough writes:

‘ _It is, I expect, a limited purview on the part of my fellows which impels them to say this of that which dwells in the Elderbarrow: the queen made common cause with no more than an aptrganga, or “draugr” in the common parlance, or even less flatteringly a ghoul, with whom the queen then had carnal relations; and so on, in this fashion. It is notable in being one particular example where the reality so sharply diverges from the fantasy that I feel compelled to comment on it. Exaggerations have been made before regarding, for example, the wolf god or the spirit of the lake, as I have already enumerated; but in all of these examples, the basic idea of the true servant was not perverted. Why, then, this fantasy about a ghoul?_

‘ _I suspect it is because, simply, the reality is far too awful to contemplate. Even though the queen is now only a memory, certain memories stoke more horrors than others. Thus the true nature of the fourth servant: that of a darkness from out of time, the product of an errant nether zephyr, the unliving and undying manifestation of the void in all its nothingness; all this is ignored in favor of a more preferable kind of truth. General folklore talks often – but never makes mock – of will-o’-the-wisps: strange lights that tantalize wanderers and lure them to their doom. These are in fact the “lanterns” of the dreaded Poes: visitors from the Other Side; the early reapers, who roam the material plane robbing men of their souls well before their time._

‘ _The fourth servant is one such a being, a Poe of unimaginable strength, that takes the souls of the men it slays and bends them to its will. Of all of the queen’s allies, this one is the most treacherous, the most dangerous, and the least scrupulous.’”_

Elsa finished reading, and closed the book carefully. “Obviously,” she added after a lengthy pause, “you should be careful dealing with this one.”

Anna placed her fist over her heart. “I will return with the fourth piece – this, I promise you.”

And they held each other’s eyes for a long and hopeful moment.

After the meeting, Hans excused himself to go attend some business, and Anna and Elsa were left behind. The queen smiled warmly and offered Anna to sit.

“What do you need, my queen?” asked Anna trepidatiously.

“I only want to talk,” was the reply; and Anna’s heart did a backflip.

Gerda brought in a bottle of wine and poured them each a cup. It was a heady red, but Anna little thought about the taste. It was in no way at the forefront of her mind.

“So,” said Elsa after a long draught. “I figured, since you are about to embark yet again, that we discuss some of the things you expressed concern about last night. The politics, and all that.” Her eyes shone. “So – any further questions you have, please, ask them.”

Anna drummed her cup with her fingers. “I think there is more to the matter of Lady Ysmir than we originally thought.”

Elsa nodded, but said nothing.

“It… well, some parts of it strike me as odd. And then Hans. A lot of folk don’t seem to trust him. I know _you_ do, my queen, and any friend of yours is a friend of mine, but the talk is that he is a,” she hesitated, “a schemer.”

“I see,” said Elsa, and nodded again. “Well, for your information, you should know I’m not completely blind. I know he has his schemes, just like Lord Myles and, yes, even Lady Ysmir. All men like him are schemers at heart. That’s the game of politics. But he is invaluable in other ways: this matter with the Golden Power, for one. His knowledge is indispensable, and I will forgive him some idle scheming for it.”

A thought struck Anna. “But, Your Grace, what if it is your throne he schemes after?”

Elsa shifted in her seat, and drained her cup of wine before answering. “Then I wish him good luck in getting past you.” She smiled mischievously.

Anna blushed unsurely. “I – well – er – yes,” she sputtered.

Elsa laughed and leaned forward slowly, pouring herself another cup from the bottle. “With three more pieces, it will no longer be a concern, anyway.”

“Okay,” said Anna, and thought. “What of Lord Edward? Why was I not told about that?”

“Ah,” said Elsa, and she took a drink. “I admit you might have been told, but – you see, Lord Hans has something in mind for the new Lord Burrows, and he didn’t want to draw too much attention to the region.”

“And what would that be? His plan?”

“He seeks to use Lord Burrows to help deal with the recalcitrant lords. How exactly he means to do this, I know not – but he has been in regular communication since Lord Edwards’s untimely death.”

Anna didn’t know what to make of that. “Well, if it is, as you say, for the best – then okay. I understand.”

“Wonderful,” said Elsa in a tone of voice that indicated she really believed it was wonderful. “And I promise you now, should any information like this come up again, I will be more forthcoming with you.” She took a drink, and eased back in her chair. “Now, then, please kindly tell me a story. It’s been so long…”

The night flew on, and the already tired-growing Elsa had several more cups, and more and more favored the talking Anna with lazy, half-lidded looks, and wide, ebullient smiles. She urged Anna to talk about the retrieval of the pieces, and all about the Gobwoods and the Toadsmarsh and the Elvelandet. Anna, for her part, knew she was stumbling around with her words, and reckoned she sounded half an idiot, but the queen didn’t seem to care.

At last Elsa could keep her eyes open no more. When Anna finished relating the matter of the dragon, Nidhogg, Elsa nodded lazily and said, “A job well done, I think.”

“The best part, however, was the magic the dragon showed me afterwards,” said Anna with a lopsided grin.

“Magic?” mumbled Elsa, and she cracked her eyes open the tiniest amount. “No, don’t go in for magic.”

“Oh, what’s this? It really is impressive, you know – you might be interested in it, actually – ”

Elsa turned her head and leaned back in her chair. “No, no, remember what father said…”

“Eh? What’s that?” blinked Anna.

“What father said,” said Elsa, and she yawned. “Oh, you know.”

Anna cocked her head, confused. “I, erm, didn’t know your father. You’re referring to the king, yes?”

“Yes,” said Elsa blankly, and fell asleep.

Anna stared puzzled at the queen’s sleeping form. One strand of hair was out of place, and her chest rose and fell with calm breaths. She lay in an awkward position, half-strewn over the edge of her seat, and Anna fumbled with her cup before putting it down and standing up.

“Um, good night, my queen,” said Anna, but she did not turn to leave. She kept on staring.

Then, bracing her gloves, she strode around the low table and, gently, picked the queen up behind her shoulders and knees. The sleeper mumbled and turned her head so that it rested on Anna’s chest.

“Oh, no, please, I’ll be good,” she whimpered.

“Sh,” said Anna, her heart spinning at the motion. Carefully, she carried the queen up the solar stairs to her chambers.

It was the first time Anna saw the queen’s room. It was open and painted blue, and had a canopied bed with blue sheets. Dark, except for the bare light permitted by the open, triangular window, through which gusted a chilling draft. Anna couldn’t see anything clearly, except for the bed. Gingerly, she moved her hand to pull back the sheets, and she set Elsa down and tucked her in.

“Anna,” Elsa mumbled, and shifted in her sleep. “I’m sorry.”

Anna smiled down. “Good night,” she said, and went to close the windows. Then she left on tiptoes out the queen’s chamber doors, which shut with a gentle _click._

 

* * *

 

It was a week of rest and recuperation before Anna hit the road again. The blizzard was now only a constant snowfall, with only a few speckled flakes hitting the ground. She struck out north with Kristoff, and they parted ways at Vardale, Kristoff bound north again for Oaken’s trading post.

“The ice business has been bad, but business at the Ghost Post is booming. I’ll have plenty to do running supplies for them”

Anna smiled at the memory. “Don’t you mean the Haunted Mountain Trading Post?”

“Yuck,” said Kristoff with a look of mock disgust. They hugged one last time and bid the other farewell.

Anna went along the west fork of the Springway, which normally led to Burrowstown, but split again into an unnamed path northwest at a small crowd of cottages that called itself Kakariko. This northwestern path led directly into the hills and crags of the Barrowings, in the heart of which was the Beast’s Keep. There, Anna would find the castle’s lord, make common cause with her or him, and then set a course for the Elderbarrow, where the fourth piece of the Golden Power lay hidden.

The weather was the temperate coolness that plies itself to barren hills in mid-spring. The snow clouds of the Crystalwater blizzard did not reach this far. Although the past week had seen their volume drop, still the snow did not let up. Lords and barons in the surrounding territories were growing increasingly anxious when it became clear that the snow would prohibit the sowing season. The talk was up: people spoke of ensorcelments, black magic, a curse from the gods. They said the Ice Queen had returned as an undying witch, and was biding her time with the blizzard, first; and then she would come with her minions once more, march on the Arenborg, and overthrow her own descendant.

Anna knew the truth, of course, which was that, whatever it was, it was in her hands to stop it, and stop it she would.

Dawn rose just as she exited a pass that let down from a clump of hills into the expanse of the Barrowings. Long, large, gently sloping hills draped the horizon, rolling on as far as the eye could see. They were plain, unforested and largely unvegetated but for a thin, yellow-greenish grass. Every here and there, some crag head wore a crown of trees.

She far into the Barrowings that day. The sun dipped below the horizon and Anna picked the shadow of a crag’s overhang to camp for the night. She was high up, at the nape of a slope upon a slope, from where, ahead and north, the hills continued to roll on.

A nearby grove of trees provided firewood, and Epona provided moral support as Anna struck a blaze, then roasted and ate her dinner. It was dark when she extinguished the flame and went to sleep in her bedroll.

At some point in the still dark night, she stirred. Epona was sleeping, and there was hooting and cricketing. Groggy, Anna tilted her head up, and caught the faint sight of something glowing down the slope. It was too far away to easily identify. Anna squinted her eyes and looked closer. An orb of blue light, bobbing and weaving, was tracing the base of the slope, coming closer bit by bit. She watched it for a solid minute before it stopped, hardly fifty yards away. It hovered stationary for a few moments, and then carried off directly away from her, eventually disappearing around the shadow of another hill.

Anna tried to go back to sleep, and had a most curious dream.

She was sitting on the mantle in a warm, fire lit room. Anna did not recognize the room. It had a single canopied bed with white and burgundy sheets, several messy drawers, and a desk stacked with papers and an unlit nub of a tallow candle. A tall oak door bore entrance to it. The walls were blank. Anna tried to get a look at herself, and failed. Whatever she was, she was small and squat, and could only see around her. An impression came to her that she was an object, an eye, something with vision, something small and stationary that could nevertheless see and, perhaps, communicate.

“Yes, thank you, that’ll be all,” came a familiar voice. The tall oak door opened, and through it came Lord Hans, his ermine cloak trailing the floor behind him. On his heels was Lord Myles, looking ill at-ease. Hans let him in, then shut the door.

“So you say it’s all planned?”

“It ought to be,” said Hans. “Lord Hugoss will be sitting on his laurels in Falkberg, and so long as he is doing that, and not threatening us here with his navy, we have time. You’ve met his sons?”

“Oh, yes,” said Myles with a slight grin. “Yes, they’ll be all too-happy to go. Them, and Lord Morning has also agreed, on Ser Harris’s suggestion. But that still leaves old man Linnaeus – ”

“You let me worry about him,” said Hans. “I’ve arranged for him. By year’s end, Eastgreen will be considered an emergency holding of the royal demesne.”

“So, so,” said Myles with a nervous chuckle. “All right, so, when this is all said and done, the whole country will be in our hands?”

“Or so near as makes no difference,” replied Hans. “All that will be left is the Valkyrie and the Beast Lord. The latter won’t get involved – the Barrowfolk never do. Too busy fighting amongst themselves. And the Valkyrie will be alone. So, I say that settles it.”

“I say it does,” said Myles. “We should have the new Lord Paramount of the Dale down here to celebrate when his job is done.”

Lord Hans gave a thin, unreadable smile. “Indeed.”

He bid Lord Myles farewell and closed the door behind him, softly. Then he walked purposefully across the room to open a window. It was snowing slowly. He sniffed.

“Don’t like what you see?” said Anna – but no, she didn’t say anything. She only felt like she did. The voice, however, was not hers. It was something else’s, like a chorus of voices, high-pitched and low, sweet and sour, coy and innocent. Above them all, however, stood out a voice like honeyed vinegar, velvety smooth with a rough, tempered edge.

“What?” said Hans suddenly, and he spun his head around wildly. “Who’s there?”

“A fine time to act the fool. Think about it.”

His eyes eventually rested on the mantle, and they seemed to bore into Anna’s. For one fearful moment, she thought he was looking directly at her. He moved to the mantle with winged speed.

“How is…” he started, his mouth working pointlessly.

“Just responding,” said the strange voice, “to your offer.”

“My _offer?_ ” repeated Hans, baffled. He reached out a hand and grabbed whatever thing Anna was, and held it up to his eyes. “ _Oh,_ ” he said. “That was not an _offer_.”

“It should have been,” said the voice.

“It didn’t have to be,” said Hans, oddly insistent. “ _I_ have the _key_ – ”

“Ha ha,” the voice cut him off. “Silence, child. I’ve been in this business for a long time, and you – you are not half the man Elina was. I See you. Now then, here’s my counteroffer: the Barrowings are mine, and mine alone. You sod off, and never again bother me with those feeble probes from that lump of ugly scar tissue you call a mind. I don’t know what you did to Andy, but I can tell you this: I am not one of those proud, vain _impressions_ that the Goddesses left behind. I care not for your coils and rules and keys. And _you – you_ are nothing to me. By the way, I found your little pet. I brought her with me tonight. Maybe I’ll send her back to you as one of my thralls?”

Suddenly Hans’s eyes became cold slits. “What did you say… you found?”

“Your little pet. She’s on the way here – ”

At that, Hans’s face relaxed, and he smiled, big and wide. “Well, then, think nothing of it. I expect I’ll be seeing you soon anyway.” His green eyes glimmered. “ _Very_ soon.”

And Anna fell down and backwards, and into a dark, long sleep that did not end until she woke up.

Late morning, almost noon. Clearly she was late in rising. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and tried to remember what it was she had been dreaming about – Hans. But that was where it left off. The memory skittered away whenever she tried to seize hold of it.

Oh, well. Anna got up and broke her fast on flatbread and cheese, and sallied forth for the Beast’s Keep.

It was a few days’ lonely riding across the vast expanse of the Barrowings before, at last, an unmistakable profile of a grand castle rose up before her. The way hadn’t been rough, in fact it had been quite tame, but the nights had an odd touch to them, and the people she met looked troubled and haggard in many ways. At one point a group of rough-looking men looked ready to make trouble, but when one of them recognized the insignia on her cloak, the rest tore off with speed.

She passed a few villages, but not much activity was abound in them, and no merchants traded more than scant accessories for outrageous prices. “These are weird times,” one of them warned her. “Non-Barrowfolk like yerself best be careful.”

Still, she got to a castle. It was surrounded by a wide, deep moat, and that was surrounded in turn by an outer wall. Someone from a window in one of the towers shouted down, asking her business.

“I am Her Majesty’s Lady Protector, come to speak with the Lord of Beast’s Keep,” Anna called up.

“O! just a moment,” was the answering reply, and the drawbridge came down. Two burly men dressed in fur and horned helmets came across the bridge to escort her. They were blond-haired and blue-eyed, and each carried axes on their belts. Their beards were nicely braided, and they were each missing several teeth.

“I’m Don, and this is Lon,” introduced one of them in a gruff, but not unkind, voice. Lon gave a noncommittal grunt.

“Well met,” said Anna. “I am Ser Anna, Lady Protector to Her Majesty Queen Elsa.”

They saluted her and led her across the bridge and in through the inner walls. The castle was stacks and stacks of dry-looking brown and rust-colored bricks.

“Glad the queen’s sent someone,” remarked Don as some squires came up to take her horse. “We usually don’t get much muck in the doing’s in Crystalwater. Sort of keep to ourselves up here. Although, fair word of caution, Ser Anna: Adam won’t take it kindly if you ask for him to send his men to fight rebels. These be the Barrowings, fair as many rebels in here as there are out there.”

“Noted,” said Anna duly. “But that is not what I was sent for.”

“Good. Mayhap there’ll be a feast tonight.”

The Beast’s Keep was enormous, easily twice or thrice the size of the Arenborg. The courtyards were spider webbed with walls, walkways and buildings. The foundries were evidently the brick buildings from which climbed two-dozen smokestacks, and the stables must have housed hundreds of horses. The servants took Epona and, at an injunction from Anna, gently guided her to the stables.

The halls of the keep were high-ceilinged and twisty, often turning sharply at odd angles. It didn’t take long, though, before they passed into a great hall, at the end of which was a high dais that hosted a large, jagged rock throne, thrown all over with furs. Swords and axes hung from the top of the throne by short ropes, and seated upon it was a tremendous man with a wild, untamed set of coarse black sideburns.

She kneeled before the throne in respect. “I take you for the lord of the Beast’s Keep?” she asked the seated man.

“Aye, that’s me!” he rumbled, his voice soft but loud, like distant rolling thunder. “You may call me Adam. Or Lord Adam, if you prefer. And I take you for Ser Anna, whom they call the Lady Protector?”

“I have that honor, my lord.”

At this the hairy man jumped off his throne and stomped down the dais to shake Anna’s hand roughly. “A pleasure! Genuinely. Ever since word of that tournament come north, I have wanted to meet you. See for myself.”

“Well, my lord, I hope not to disappoint.”

Adam barked in amusement. “Hah! We’ll see about that. Now, tell me, friend, why have you come to the Beast’s Keep? Don’t tell me you come in the name of that Lord Hans?”

“No, my lord, in the name of Her Majesty the Queen.”

“Oh? Funny how often,” said Adam, “that gets thrown around by people in Lord Hans’s employ.”

Anna frowned. “My lord, I don’t understand your meaning.”

Adam snorted loudly. “Harrumph. One thing I’ll tell you now, before we discuss anything: no, I cannot send my men to help put down the Valkyrie. Is that clear?”

Somewhat taken aback, Anna looked him in the eyes and said, “My lord, I did not come here to beg you for men or ask you to raise your banners. I was sent by the queen for another matter entirely – one that only requires your hospitality, if you should be so gracious as to give it.”

“Hmm,” rumbled Adam thoughtfully. “In that case, we can discuss it over supper.”

There was no feast, as Don had hoped, but Adam insisted Anna break bread and spend the night. She was shown to a guest room, which Anna thought was very nice, if it reminded her somewhat uncomfortably of the oglins’ guest room. As such, she was anxious to get the supper over with, and to get moving once more.

Supper was held in a smallish room with a round table that could seat about a dozen comfortably. Only nine sat in, at that: Anna, Adam, and seven whom he called his most trusted confidantes. Two Anna recognized as Don and Lon, and they nodded gruffly. Then there was Ik and Uk, similar-looking twins with big noses and heavily braided dark red beards; Joana, a tall and gangly brunette with bronzed skin; Lydia, young and fair with pinched cheeks and a severe gaze; and Jeanine, who, by looks, was only rivaled by Adam himself for muscle mass. In all, they were a savage-looking group of people, all armed to the teeth and dressed in heavy, ragged furs. They drained their flagons at the first toast – which, Anna was pleased to see, was:

“To the Queen!” roared Adam, and there was a roar of agreement, and some of them banged the table with their fists. Anna had barely cleared half her flagon when the next toast came: “To the gods!”

She sputtered her way through the rest of her mead, and put it down at last, gasping for breath and feeling quite sick. A laugh lifted when this was noticed, and Anna felt suitably embarrassed. Still, she got it down.

 _Then_ the food came out, and honestly it was modest. Pickles, trout, black and bloody stew in warm loaf trenchers. As they ate, conversation formed, and then Adam turned his focus to Anna.

“All right, Ser Anna. Now that you’ve eaten our bread and drunk our mead, a sacred rite has passed between us. You may speak truthfully and I won’t impale your head on a pike. Now, then, did you _really_ come to ask me to raise my banners for that blackguard Lord Hans?”

Anna chewed a bite of fish and swallowed. “No, my lord, truly not. I came regarding a very different matter, one honestly put to me by the queen.”

“That is welcome, truly,” said Adam, and he visibly relaxed.

Anna gave him a thoughtful look. “May I ask a question, my lord?”

“Aye, though I may not answer it.”

“You seem to mistrust Lord Hans,” said Anna. “You would not be the first lord I met that did, nor the only person in this very room. I was only wondering what gave you that impression? Did you meet him?”

Adam frowned and took a deep pull off his drink. “Ah, well, no, Ser Anna – I have not met him. But we have been in touch. Ever since the – well, the short of it is that he keeps asking after my intentions in marching south – whether or not I intend to move against the Valkyrie, why or why not, and all that. Might forgive a man his curiosity, I might, but when I tell him of our own troubles out here, it don’t seem to impact much. Next thing he writes is the same old: ‘Will ye march south?’ Damned strange.”

“Is there another rebellion?” asked Anna worriedly. “Out here, I mean?”

Jeanine, who sat nearby, laughed suddenly. She was cleaning out her fingernails with the edge of a long, cruel knife. “When is there not rebels in the Barrowings?”

Ik and Uk chuckled together, and Don laughed, and Lon gave a thin smile. The rest of the table talk died as heads turned to Adam, whose eyes lit up in amusement.

“Rebels are common in the Barrowings,” clarified Adam after a moment. “Fighting more so. Every month or so, some new beastling upstart declares himself Lord of Beast’s Keep, and goes forth to make it so. Only – they don’t none ever succeed.”

“Last man what succeeded was Nigel the Great,” said Don.

“Aye, me old da’,” said Adam. “He gave the keep to me when he passed away, and I’ve held it ever since.”

“Your father won the throne in a coup?” asked Anna.

“Not a coup. Through right of combat. That’s how thrones are won in the Barrowings.”

“But you’ve held it ever since?”

“Aye, that’s so.”

“Let’s put it like this,” said Jeanine, leaning across the table and looking Anna in the eyes. “Adam’s family is the first two-generation dynasty the Beast’s Keep has ever seen.”

Adam drained his flagon and slapped the table with a hand. “Ser Anna! Listen up. Yer a dragon whelp. A dragon, but still just a whelp – means you can learn things. See these seven I’ve gathered here – they’re loyalest, oldest friends I’ve ever had, bound to me by oaths. And every one of them is, like me, a _shifter._ ”

The hackles rose on Anna’s neck. “I, uh – a shifter, my lord?” she said unsurely.

“Aye,” whispered Adam. “A gift many Barrowfolk are born with, but few ever master – we can take the form of a beast, and – ”

“I met one like you!” said Anna suddenly, nearly jumping out of her seat. “In – On the Springway, last year. He was like some… some wolf-man thing.”

Adam frowned and sat back, nonplussed. “Really? Queer you’d have seen it… Most shifters don’t roam far from these parts. Tend to get themselves strung up by angry mobs.”

“Yes! He called himself – ” Anna wracked her brain “ – something like… ‘Wat’, the, er, Bastard of Beast’s Keep – or some such.”

At once, Adam’s expression darkened. His voice lowered into a husky, earthy growl. “Did you say his name was ‘Wat’?”

Jeanine drove her dagger point-first into the table. “Wat! Of course he didn’t bugger off for good. He’s roaming the greens now.”

“Probably trying to find mercenaries for his cause,” said Don darkly, and murmurs of disgruntled agreement ran around the room.

Adam waved his hand and shushed the room. “Quiet. Now, Ser Anna – you’re _sure_ his name was Wat? And he was a beast-man? Where did he come from? Where was he going? Did he say anything else?”

“Uh,” said Anna, gathering her thoughts. “He… I’m pretty certain he was a beast-man, I suppose. He was like no beast I’d ever seen, and I was with a knight who called him by that name. Uh… he was holding company with some mercenaries.” She paused for a moment. “And I killed him.”

Silence. “You killed him?” asked Don. “Cut off his head?”

“Yes.”

“By yourself?”

“I had help,” said Anna. “In fact, really, it was mostly my comrades.”

The whole room looked at Adam, whose eyes were fixed on Anna. “Wat was my half-brother,” said Adam slowly. “A bastard of my father. Years ago, he rose his own host and tried to claim the Beast’s Keep for his own. He lost and begged for mercy, so I banished him, where other men might have killed him.

“For years afterwards he roamed the realm, bemoaning his stolen birthright, agitating for what he called his by rights. A criminal and a pest, and a dangerous one at that, I should not mourn his passing.”

“His claim held on accounts that he never lost a single combat,” said Jeanine humorlessly. “Was his army that got smashed, not his skull, after all.”

More silence. “So, do we drink?” ventured Don.

“Aye,” said Adam after a pause. “We drink.”

“You have done me a great service, Ser Anna,” said Adam when he set down his flagon. “Though, you did not know it. Now I must know, see if I can repay the favor. What was it that the queen sent you here for?”

“I was sent to find something,” said Anna. “Something in a place called the Elderbarrow.”

Troubled looks went around the room again. “You are just full of surprises,” rumbled Adam. “What exactly do you mean to find in the Elderbarrow?”

“Something evil,” said Anna. “Something that I intend to kill.”

“She’s not joking,” said Ik or Uk, and they gave each other dubious glances.

“Something evil,” repeated Adam with a frown.

Jeanine, who had started fidgeting at mention of the Elderbarrow, now leapt to her feet. “This is it! My lord, I swear to you, this is what we’ve been waiting for.”

“Now, Jeanine – ”

“No, I tell you! This is it! The queen has not forsaken us! For months now I’ve told you that the Elderbarrow was the source of our troubles, and that we only needed to root it out – ”

“And _I_ have told _you,_ ” rattled Adam sharply, rising from his seat, “that we have no means to contend it – ”

“Here are your means!” shouted Jeanine, rising to her feet, gesturing wildly at Anna. “Here is your champion! The queen herself sent her to rid us of the pestilence! She has slain your half-brother, let her lead us that we may slay the shadow that hangs over us!”

At this, they all turned to regard Anna. She shifted in her seat, and reflected that eight armed humans were somehow more terrifying to her than a single giant kraken.

“I think,” she said at length, “you had better start at the beginning.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Since January,” began Adam, standing before the fire, “the dead have been walking again.”

Adam’s solar was spacious and circular, and furnished harshly with tough, sturdy chairs. They sat arm-to-arm in a semicircle around a huge hearth. A fire crackled, and Adam stood looking into it.

His confidantes were still with them. For a long time, he stood in silence, gazing at the flickering blaze.

“The dead? Walking again?” repeated Anna. “Like zombies?”

“Would that they were no more than animations,” said Adam with a disdainful chuckle, turning to face the rest of them. “Mindless, meaningless shamblers. No, these are thralls – draugar – intelligent creatures. Torn souls imprinted with a master’s will. In the old days, necromancers roamed the Barrowings, raising draugar wherever they went. They’re long gone… yet, now, all over the lands, we hear the report: the dead walk again, with gelid touch and desolate eyes. They are strong, and smart, and equal to every great warrior. It is clear that a necromancer has come once more, and that the draugar are its doing.

“We have kept the truth of this matter from most, so as not to cause alarm – but privately, we have had great cause for concern. What can be done against the necromancer? I thought we should just wait and see, but… My wife had different plans.”

“Your wife, my lord?” asked Anna quietly.

“The eighth of our little group,” said Jeanine with some asperity.

“Aye,” said Adam, and he looked down. His face was hard. “She studied, day and night, to find the meaning of these happenings. And one day, she said she knew where the necromancer was, and announced she was going to go fight him – alone. Against all my protests, she rode north for the Elderbarrow, and has not been seen since.” His head snapped up. “This was three months ago. Since then, the draugar sightings have only increased. I have already given it up that she is dead. But still, I know not what to make of her final revelation.”

“I told him that we must go after her,” stressed Jeanine, striking her thigh with a balled-up fist. “We must follow her. She may be dead, but she need not have died in vain, and eight of us may succeed where one failed.”

“But I say, then and now, that we still know not what we are facing,” said Adam with a glare at Jeanine. “However… the queen has now sent us her very own Lady Protector, ostensibly to go to the Elderbarrow and slay whatever lurks within. This is a tiding I cannot ignore.”

He stopped in silence, brow furrowed and frown deep, for several long minutes.

“They say,” he said at last, “that you fought thirty Weselton men to a standstill, and only suffered a minor wound in the process. Is that true?”

“It was a major wound,” corrected Anna. “Or, well, fairly major, anyway.”

“But you fought the men all the same?”

Anna cleared her throat and said, “As best as I could.”

Adam sighed heavily. “I suppose you are as good as it gets,” he said. He walked up to Anna and bowed before her. “Consider me your man, until this deed is done.”

“And I,” said Ik and Uk in unison, and they drew their swords and knelt, too.

“And me;” “And me;” Joana and Lydia knelt, axes in hand.

Lon knelt without saying a word. Don did not draw his weapon, but knelt and said, “Where Adam goes, I go.”

And finally, Jeanine knelt and said, “Until the ends of the earth, Ser Anna.”

Anna stood before the kneeling figures. “We go at first light.

 

* * *

 

 

The expedition made its hasty preparations, and just as the eastern clouds were getting touched by rays of yellow, nine horses and their riders left the safety of Beast’s Keep.

The Elderbarrow was seldom frequented by people of any stripe, and this was true of the Barrowfolk as well. They all heard about it – that is, they knew what the Elderbarrow was. But above all, they knew that it was a dark place, and one best left alone. True enough, few barrows anyone visited when they could help it, but a few of them were near towns, or sat underneath intrepid cottages and so forth. Not the Elderbarrow. It stood alone, and rose out of the north horizon beneath the jagged peaks of the Earthspine. All around it was barren land, utterly flat. This was hallowed ground.

Epona whickered uneasily and nearly reared when they crossed into the plain before the huge hill. “Whoa, there,” said Anna. “Easy, now.”

“Your horse has sense we lack,” said Don.

Anna got an eerie feeling of her own by the time they stood beneath the rising hill. Everyone stopped, and Anna looked – but all she could see was a slope.

“Is this it?” she questioned.

“Aye, it is,” said Adam. He drove his horse forward, and waved a hand at a steep section of slope directly in front of them. “This is the entrance.”

Anna squinted. “It only looks like a cliff to me, my lord.”

Jeanine laughed loudly. “Just watch.” She spurred her horse and trotted briskly to the cliff face. She swung down off her horse and then, without stopping or pausing even a beat, she kept going and disappeared into the earthen slope.

“Come on!” she called, unseen.

Anna’s jaw hung open. “What in the world…”

“A glamor,” explained Adam, jumping down off his own horse. “This wall is but an illusion. You can pass through it as though it were naught.” With that, he, too, went through the wall.

One by one the others followed, until only Don and Anna remained.

“Were you expecting some kind of sepulcher?” he chuckled. “All Barrowfolk are raised knowing the story of the False Entrance.” He went through the wall.

After a few more moments, Anna dismounted Epona. “You be good, now, okay? Be careful.” Taking a deep breath, she plunged through the false wall.

Anna passed through it as though it was nothing. She blinked her eyes and found herself in a long dark hallway. The others had lit torches and were scouting out ahead. The hallway extended out of sight, but that was not the strangest thing about it – the walls, floor, and ceiling were all immaculately carved stone. Patterns and designs of exquisite detail ran along them; details of eyes and hands, sometimes oddly-shaped, and spirals and curved lines.

She was looking at the details when the voice came, a strange chorus of dark and high notes.

“Don’t like what you see?” it said.

Anna jumped and looked around. “Who said that?”

“Said what?” asked Don.

Anna blinked. “I thought I… heard a voice.”

They all peered at her. Adam cleared his throat. “Let’s get moving. Down this tunnel. And stick together, everyone. File up.”

Collectively they proceeded into the tomb, making no conversation or noise except the step of boots on stone and the occasional snap of the torch flames. On and on they went, and the oppressive dankness seemed to grow. A sound seemed to come from all the walls around them, the sound of unimaginable amounts of moving earth, echoing through titanic caverns. And over it, the soft, dark chatter of something watching them.

One of the eyes on the wall blinked.

Anna started, unsure if what she had just seen was real. She patted Autumn’s hilt to make sure it was there.

The hallway eventually opened into a wide, circular chamber, all around the walls of which were nine closed doors, plus the entrance they had just come through. The room was lit by ten wooden torches, all propped up against the walls between each of the doors.

Most of the doors were plain, but the opposite door was taller and wider than the rest, and had the image of a flaming eye carved into it.

As a group they stepped into the center of the room.

“The Compass,” said Don in awe.

“Must be. It’s crucial we stay together, now,” said Adam firmly. He motioned to Joana, who slung a rucksack out in front of her. It clinked as she moved it. “Let us all make sure we have what we need.” He reached into the sack and pulled out a small, empty glass bottle, which he then handed to Anna.

She accepted it with a raised eyebrow. “What is this for?”

“This is a dire place,” said Adam. “Mayhap you’ve heard of will-o-wisps?”

Anna inclined her head. “After a sort, but what – ”

“Will-o-wisps cannot be killed,” said Adam, “only banished. So if you find one…” He picked up another bottle, unstopped the lid, and made a swiping motion. “Catch it in the bottle.”

Anna looked at the bottle dubiously. “How does one banish a will-o-the-wisp?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Adam. “In old times, we’d find a witch of the wastes to do it.”

“It’s more of a superstition now than anything,” interjected Jeanine. “Will-o-wisps aren’t really real, but wearing a bottle around your neck is said to ward away evil spirits. Here.” She gave Anna a piece of twine to string the bottle up while Adam looked on, frowning.

Once everyone had a bottle, Adam nodded, and gestured to the big door. “Stick together, as I said – everyone, to me. We go through the door.”

“Oh, yes, stick together,” came the voice, “that’s bound to work out.”

Anna blinked and looked around, but none of the others gave any indication they had heard anything unusual. They all filed up at the door. Anna put her hand on the door and pushed through, and just as she did, she noticed, in the barest peripheries of her vision, the others passing through different doors. The fiery eye looked at her as she went through.

She was in a gray-blue room, long with colonnades lining the sides. She looked behind her and found only flat wall. The others were nowhere to be seen.

“Lost your friends?” said the voice. It was louder, suddenly, as though in her ears. “Their own fault, really. Didn’t even go through the right door.”

Anna found herself drawing her sword and shield. “Okay, who are you?” she snarled. “And where are you? Show yourself, coward!”

“Now that’s _really_ no way to address your host,” sighed the voice. “I mean, Anna of Crystalwater, Knight of Crystalwater, Lady Protector, Scion of Trolls, and so on – _you_ didn’t even introduce yourself. Now what kind of manners are those?”

Uneasily, Anna moved slowly down the room, sword at the ready. “Who are you?” she repeated.

“I am,” said the voice, “me.”

At that, it fell silent, and Anna kept moving. She reached the end of the room, which, Anna was surprised to see, held a dais with a throne on it. Anna looked closer. It was a throne of stone, and in the crest a six-pointed snowflake was carved. She looked around. This room was an exact replica of the Arenborg’s throne room, done up in naught but blue-gray stone.

“Have a seat,” invited the voice. “The chair’s not exactly comfortable, and there’s not much to be said for the view, but just remember that people kill for this privilege so you had better learn to appreciate it.”

“I am not going to sit in your chair,” spat Anna. “Stop playing games, come out and fight me.”

“You are really not making this fun at all,” sighed the voice. “Well, whatever you do, don’t turn around…”

On instinct, Anna spun around. There, lying feet from the base of the dais, was Queen Elsa’s crumpled-up body, blood pooling thickly around her. The gasp caught in Anna’s throat. She threw herself down at the queen’s side.

“My queen! You…”

The eyes were glassy and still, open but unseeing. She was dead, clearly.

“…Twice…” continued the voice.

The briefest shuffle tipped her off. Anna scrambled and turned just as the huge sword came down. Her shield was too late – the blade glanced off and scraped her shoulder. Anna bit back the yell of pain and forced the attack away.

Her attacker was tall, nine feet at least, and clad heavily in pitch-black armor, except for its hands which wore brilliant golden gauntlets. He wore a greathelm, the visor of which was only shadow. On his left arm was a gigantic tower shield, and in his right hand was a long sword…

It was the Giant’s Knife.

Or it looked _just_ like it.

“You remind me of Ser Danton,” rumbled the black knight, and he attacked again, swinging his sword with awful ferocity.

Anna leaped back, meeting his blows with sword and shield, heart pounding as she fought the Giant again. She checked the wave of panic reaching over her and focused. _Ser Richard is dead. Dead, dead, dead. This is only an apparition. He’s dead._

“Oh, are you certain about that?” said the voice. “If you ask me, alive and dead are really matters of opinion.”

The Giant swung his sword down. Anna dipped her knees and rolled away. The sword smote the ground with a crushing blow, causing chunks of stone to go flying. The golden gauntlets on the Giant’s hands seemed to resonate with the motion.

The Giant turned and swung again, sword slashing through the air. Anna ducked again and rolled the other way, around the back of the Giant. _I did this before,_ she thought, and she jumped up. _A little differently._ She put her boot on the Giant’s back and leaped again. He toppled forward and she plunged Autumn’s point into the back of his neck.

He vanished wholly, except for the golden gauntlets that fell with a clank. Anna tumbled to the ground.

“You took your queen’s death pretty well,” said the voice calmly, “considering it didn’t seem to slow you down killing that man again.”

“She’s not really dead,” said Anna, standing up on shaking knees.

“Yet,” said the voice.

“I’m here because of her,” Anna said, standing up straight and pointing her sword in all directions. “Now, show yourself.”

The voice did not speak again, and Anna looked at the golden gauntlets on the ground. She sheathed Autumn and picked them up, turning them around in her hands. They were a mixture of leather and covered in a kind of gilded steel lobster plate, with small glittering gems embedded in the backs of the gloves.

“You should just leave those alone,” said the voice. “Not really yours to take.”

Not heeding the voice, or perhaps actively spiting it, Anna slipped off her own leather gloves and put the gauntlets on. She flexed her fingers. The mobility was fine, great actually – the gauntlets seemed to weigh nothing, in fact, she felt an overwhelming sense of power coursing through her. She felt dauntless, strong. She cast her eyes at one of the columns and strode to it, placing her hands on either side. She acquired a firm grip and lifted with all her might. Slowly, with loud cracking sounds, she wrenched the column from its position under the ceiling, and tossed it across the room, where it collided with another column and the two collapsed in a heap of dust and rubble.

“Thanks,” Anna said to the air, with a coy grin.

“Mortals,” said the voice venomously. A rattling noise sounded through the chamber. A door appeared in the wall behind her, between two columns. Anna went to it and cast it open harshly.

She was in a room, or – it seemed more like a tavern. The walls were timber and had glass windows, through which a black night was visible. The room was empty except for a few trestle tables with flagons and plates of food on them, and in the center of the room, Ik – or was it Uk? – was fighting Uk – or was it Ik? – with weapons drawn.

“Ik is fighting a mirror double of himself,” explained the voice. “So the question you need to answer is this: which is the _real_ Ik?”

Anna stepped forward. The two combatants didn’t seem to notice her, flying at each other with a rage.

“Which of you is Ik?” she demanded.

“Me!” said one of them.

“The mirror double always lies, you see,” the voice went on.

She pointed Autumn at the other one. “So you’re not Ik?”

“No!” said the other one, fighting. “But neither is he!”

“I think you have your answer,” said the voice.

Anna approached them, but as she did, she saw each of them cast apart their weapons and lunge, falling to the ground in a rolling tackle.

“Wait a minute,” she exclaimed, and she jumped in and pulled them apart. It was trivial – they moved like small stones, and she held them at bay with no real effort. Both of them struggled against the iron like grip of her gauntlets.

“Let me at him!” said one. “I’m the _real_ Ik!”

“You are not!” said the other.

“He is!” said Anna, “And _you’re_ Uk! Don’t you see? Neither of you is a double. You’re Ik and Uk!”

It took a few moments for her words to sink in. They stared at each other blankly.

“But…” said Ik, blinking. “He… It… It said you were a fake…”

“It said the same about you,” said Uk, also blinking.

The voice did not speak. A door appeared in the opposite wall.

“Come on,” said Anna. “Pull yourselves together.”

In the next room, they found Jeanine standing between Don, Lon, Lydia, and Joana. They were fighting and, Anna noticed, it was four-on-one: Jeanine stood alone against the other four. Their eyes all blazed with clouded fury, and they fought relentlessly.

“My gods,” said Ik and Uk together.

“Traitors!” snarled Jeanine.

“Where is Adam?” demanded Don and he moved in for a cut.

The fighting went on, Jeanine growing hairier and more savage with each swipe. It was then Anna realized that she had blurred the line between man and beast and was now some ferocious wolf-like creature, her long, sharp claws slashing through the air.

“Stop!” cried Anna, bounding into the fray. “STOP! This is a trick, don’t you see?”

“Out of the way, Ser Anna!” ordered Don. “Jeanine has betrayed Adam – ”

“How do you know that? How do any of you know that? You’ve been tricked. The voice,” she paused for an earnest breath, “has _deceived_ you.”

Jeanine swiped at Anna’s arm. She twisted her hand and grabbed Jeanine’s hairy wrist. “If you want to save Adam,” tried Anna, “you’ll _stop._ ”

That seemed to do the trick. Jeanine blinked, the clouds of fury wisping out of her eyes, and then she backed away. “What… What’s happening?”

“There’s something in this temple,” said Anna. “It’s been playing tricks. It – you must have heard something, _felt_ something. It tricked you into thinking that Adam was betrayed. Don’t you see? We can’t let the thing divide us like this!”

Jeanine took a few more steps backwards, and then folded and knelt. Slowly, she changed back to a more humanlike form. The rest were blinking in befuddlement.

“Well done,” murmured the voice grudgingly, and another door appeared in the wall.

“Get it together, come on,” said Anna. She pointed her finger at the new door. “Adam is through there. We’ll find him, and then deal with this demon – or whatever it is – together.”

They all nodded, and fell into line. Their sheepish looks were replaced by ones of concentration as she spoke: “Now, remember, this thing plays tricks on the mind. Above all, remember that.”

They went through the door.

It was a circular arena with a high domed ceiling and sandy floors. All around the perimeter, columns held up the base of the dome. In the center of the sandy arena was Adam, standing opposite a strange-looking woman with vaguely wolfish features.

Jeanine gasped in horror. “It’s… _her_ …”

“The eighth of our group,” said Don. “Adam’s wife. The Lady Bella.”

She wore ugly tatters and her skin was tight and gray. Her face was drawn and taut, gray and pockmarked with some peculiar affliction. Her eyes were sunken and cold, and she seemed to sway on the spot.

“You should have come with me, Adam,” said the woman, her voice low and husky. “I wouldn’t be like this.”

“No…” said Adam, backing away. He seemed to shrink, close in on himself. “No…”

The woman approached him, hand outstretched. “You can join me, now…”

“No!” said Anna, and she rushed forward – but a gout of fire burst from the ground at the edge of the arena, and stopped her going any further.

“Adam!” shouted Anna over the flames. “It’s not real! It’s an illusion! It’s – ”

“That’s no illusion,” said Don. “That’s a draugr. She’s been _reanimated._ ”

Mind spinning, Anna stared helplessly. The draugr was shuffling towards Adam, who was now all but collapsed on the ground. Her mind reeled. Then, suddenly, Jeanine spoke up:

“She’s _dead_ , Adam!” Jeanine shrieked. “Dead, dead, _dead!_ ”

Adam’s head snapped up and he stared at Jeanine, his eyes burning with hatred. The draugr was close now, and Adam was unmoving.

Anna swiveled her head and beheld the closest pillar. She bound over to it and seized it by the base. With a heave, it cracked and broke loose, and Anna pushed it over the flame barrier. It landed with a tremulous boom. Anna scrambled onto the sidelong pillar and dashed its length, leaping off the end as she drew her sword.

It thunked down hard in the draugr’s shoulder, separating the arm from the rest of its body. It staggered backwards. “Adam!” came Jeanine’s voice again. “She’s _dead!_ ”

Adam shook his head violently. In one swift motion, he got to his feet and dove, and drove a huge bear claw into the draugr’s gut. He drove in the other, too, and rent the thing apart.

The flames vanished, and the bear-man knelt over the bloodied remains of the draugr. The light left its eyes like a quenched candle flame.

“Of course,” said Adam, as the rest approached. “I knew that she was… already dead, but I… I didn’t want to believe I… I didn’t do the right thing.” He stood in respectful silence over the torn remains.

“We’ll need to give her a burial,” said Don. “A proper one. Not in this cursed place.” The rest nodded.

There was a flash of light, and suddenly Anna was alone in the sandy arena. She swirled around with exposed panic, searching desperately for the others, but, no, they were all gone.

A door materialized in the wall at the far end of the arena. “Don’t like what you see?” asked the voice. “Well, well, well. Come on. Don’t let me waiting.”

“What did you do with them?” asked Anna bitterly. She drew her sword. “Tell me!”

“A good question, I think, but a better one might be: What did I do with _you?_ ” A faint cackle echoed around the chamber. “I've seen this pageant played out before, oh, more times than you could imagine. The things people convince themselves they need to do. Oh, I can give this or that suggestion, wring out this or that illusion – but they're nothing without context. Funny thing, context. Can turn a whisper into _blood._ One thing I know about humans: you're all traitors just waiting to turn. The rest are hypocrites. But, ah, don't worry too much about it. An end is coming for you one way or another.”

The door opened by itself, revealing a yawning abyss. Anna stepped through the threshold slowly, and a stone slab closed shut behind her with a definite _thomp_. Distantly, she thought she heard someone shouting out her name, but the sound dissipated. She was still alone – and now in a square stone room with plain white walls, along which ran an ongoing pattern. In the middle of the room sat a high dais with an empty, spindly wooden table on it. On either side of the table, two tall torches held flickering flames.

“The moment you walked into my barrow, I _knew_ you were special among that lot,” said the voice. “It’s been a long, long time since I’ve met anyone with as much vinegar as you. It’s _savory_.”

The flames in the torches cast moving shadows on the wall. They morphed and changed into one another, shifting and finally forming a distinct outline. It was vaguely humanoid in shape, but seemed twisted, bent, pointed. It grinned, or – seemed to grin.

“Don’t like what you see?” chortled the voice, and the shadow twisted and formed something new. Anna’s heart stopped – it was the queen, her shadow, swaying back and forth across the wall.

“Perhaps this is more to your liking? Oh – wait – I can do better.” In an unmistakable motion, the shadow cast off its billowy edge, and the silhouette of a dress fluttered across the wall, and Elsa’s shadow became smooth, curved, perfect – unclothed.

Heat blazed in Anna’s cheeks. “Who are you?” she demanded, trying to sound confident. Her voice cracked treacherously.

The shadow blew Anna a kiss and re-formed into its previous, bent form. The head parted by a thick wedge and flapped open with a dry, tittering laugh. A jagged pitch-black hand came out of the wall, flickering as the torchlight moved around it like water on a rock face.

Anna held up her sword. It thrummed eagerly. “Who are you?” she demanded again, trying to focus on the battle.

The voice chuckled emptily. “What, do you want me to give you a name? What do you expect me to say? I don’t have a name. Even in this material plane, I am but a stranger. A predator of all that dwell here. And _you_ are my prey.”

The hand jumped towards her in a spurting motion, stopping five feet from her face when Anna pointed her sword.

“That sword,” said the voice hesitantly. The hand hovered in air, frozen in place; then, abruptly, the voice’s tone hardened. “That _thorn_ is nothing to me. Good-bye, Ser Anna, Knight of Crystalwater, et cetera et cetera, ditto ditto. I’ll make sure your body looks presentable when your soul is mine.”

The hand jumped again, swinging around in a wild, impossible arc as Anna tried in vain to slash it. It plunged into her chest and Anna cried out in pain. She could feel the tendrils of consummate emptiness working their way through her body, and her mind began to slip.

Then, suddenly, nothing.

“…What?” said the voice. An uncomfortable shifting. The pain was ebbing now, the shadows moved wildly across the walls. “Where… _What?_ Where is it? _WHERE IS IT?_ ”

The pain had gone, and she could see the wisp of shadow sticking out of her chest, spiraling back to the wall from which it sprouted. She brought her sword down.

“Yee _aaARGHHH!”_ The roar was unlike anything Anna had ever heard, unearthly and defying all sound. The entire room seemed to vibrate, to throb and pulse and squirm. The shadow evacuated her body in an instant and coiled into the air. Anna leapt and slashed again, nicking the tendril and cutting a clear path through it. The shadow on the wall rippled, and Anna could see, cast in relief by the flickering flames, the outline of something huge and transparent. She cut again, and again, pushing the thing back and back to the dais.

“St-Stop! STOP! STOP!” it shrieked. The table on the dais warbled and shifted, and out of the shifting air, a wound appeared, a shimmering split, through which was visible a simple cast iron lantern with an iron holding ring, unlit. Under its own power, the wound passed over the lantern, and it burst into color, a blue flame burning palely behind the six glass panes of its torch windows. The lantern sat on the table, the flame within shifting side to side. The ring on top of the lantern slowly rose upright, and then lifted into the air. The lantern followed, rising into the air, and the torches cast its shadow on the thing that held it.

Anna blinked. Now, she could see it.

A shabby mist-woven shawl of dark purple and faded-white draped an unfathomable blackness, from which peered two haunting, yellow orbs. A pitch black arm with too many joints spidered around as it held up the lantern. It floated up, and up, moving slowly away from Anna.

Not this time. Anna jumped onto the table. It teetered forward and she put all her energy into her heels and jumped again. She slashed at the arm that held the lantern as the table crashed into the dais behind her.

“NonoNONO WAIT – ” said the thing. It shrieked again as Autumn’s steel flashed through the black limb, and the lantern fell to the ground with an ear-splitting crash.

The eldritch screech that followed it seemed to last forever, echoing all around the chamber in an infinitely compounding cascade of pure terror. Then, all at once, it died away into a dull whine, and then utter silence. The shadows split apart with an explosive fury, scattering to all corners of the room and fading before the torchlight.

Anna landed gracefully. She turned and regarded the room.

Where the lantern had struck the ground, amidst the wreckage of glass and twisted iron, a little blue flame bobbed up and down, uncertainly.

Intuitively, Anna took the bottle from her neck, unstopped it, and approached the blue flame.

“Wait,” said the flame, its voice small and weak, no longer a chorus. “Don’t.”

Anna swooped her bottle through the flame. Like an acquiescent liquid, it all slooped into the bottle, and she stoppered it quickly.

“Damn it,” said the flame, its voice muffled and distant through the glass of the bottle. It swirled around inside the bottle, its voice blistered with anger. “You – damn you – you let me out – do you have any idea – _any idea_ what I am? I was reaping souls before the first of your kind crawled out of the mud!”

“Shut up,” advised Anna, and she put the bottle back on the string, looped it around her neck, and dropped it beneath her tunic.

A golden glow shined out across the room. Atop the dais, hovering between the two burning torches, was the golden shimmer of the fourth piece. Anna took it delicately. She left the room, her boots lightly crunching on broken glass on the way out.

Outside the barrow, the others were waking from nightmares.

 


	19. The Ice Temple

 

The falling snowflakes speckled Anna’s face, one after the other, melting on contact and dripping down like tears. She stared up into the gray void, and the endless expanse of snowing clouds. They orbed the sky from horizon to horizon. They had been all Crystalwater could see, looking up, for the past six months.

Anna’s birthday was soon in coming, and it did not take much to reflect on how far she had come in one short year since her last.

Kneeling before the queen, as she usually did, Anna presented the fourth piece of the Golden Power.

She also showed them the bottle with the wisp.

“My word,” said Hans, as Anna held it up for his inspection. “That’s a Poe spirit, is it – but it’s not…?”

“It is the one from the Elderbarrow,” said Anna. “The same one that was terrorizing the Barrowlands.”

The flame in the bottle licked the sides of the glass, and Anna put it away.

“For this,” Anna continued, “Adam has agreed to send his men to whatever cause we desire. Including, as it happens, fighting the rebellion.”

“Has he?” said Hans, arching his eyebrow. He gave Anna a lengthy, considering look. “We sent you to get an ancient artifact, but you brought us that… _and_ an army.” He paused. “Well done.”

“There was also this,” said Anna, and she showed them the golden gauntlets. “These are magical, I think. When I wear them, I can seem to lift enormous weights.”

“The Titan’s Mitts!” exclaimed Elsa in awe. Anna handed them over, and Elsa turned them around and around with a look of wonderment. “I read about these. They were said to provide giant’s strength to the person that wears them. I should think they would prove immensely useful, wouldn’t you say, Hans?”

He gave an appreciative look. “I think it’ll make short work of the next two pieces. Ah, that reminds me – I would that Anna stayed here until the eve of July, whereupon she may resume the search.”

“Why?” said Elsa and Anna together, and they exchanged a glance. Not that Anna minded the rest, but the sooner done, the better, she thought.

Hans appeared to hesitate for a moment. “I suppose I’d just better get out with it. Ser Anna,” he nodded at her, “you recently spoke with the queen your misgivings about the, er, recent successor to the lordship of Burrowstown?”

“Somewhat, my lord,” said Anna with an uneasy frown. “I only thought I should have been told that Lord Edward passed away.”

Hans nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry for not being more upfront with you, but, you see, there is a reason for it. Lord Brendan is planning to host a meeting of great envoys from across the kingdom, and I intend to bless the ceremony. As a new lord with no baggage of his own, my hope is that the meeting can be used to improve vassal opinions, to strengthen ties – and to finally get the levies we need to fight the Valkyrie.”

After a moment’s contemplation, Anna nodded. “I see.”

“And, again, if I may speak frankly,” Hans continued, “the general recalcitrance of the vassals has made me question the queen’s safety. Specifically, the recalcitrance of Lord Hugoss. I know he seems like a bumbling, affable sort to you, but he is a lord, after all, not a saint. His sons are to be our guests of honor here in the Arenborg until the first of July. After that, they’ll make for Burrowstown for the meeting. In the meantime, I wouldn’t put it past their father to have them do… _something,_ while _he_ remains in Falkberg.”

Anna was troubled by this revelation, but that was nothing to Elsa’s apparent discomfort, and the queen spoke up surely. “My lord, I think you are paranoid. The Hugosses have served House Arendelle loyally for generations.”

Hans simply shrugged. “As I said, it was only a hunch. I’m not making any pretenses for action, I only think we should keep Ser Anna here until it is certain that the danger has passed.”

“It is an absurd hunch,” said Elsa with an edge in her voice.

“As you say, but perhaps we should ask Ser Anna her opinion?” said Hans with a gesture in Anna’s direction.

Anna shifted from foot to foot while both the queen and Hans stared. On the one hand, it chafed her to speak against the queen – but she knew that the queen’s safety mattered more than anything else. And Anna was the Lady Protector, first and foremost.

“I think that… any threat to the queen’s safety should be our paramount consideration,” she said.

For a moment, a dark look crossed Elsa’s eyes, and her brows furrowed in consternation. Quickly it dissipated, and with a dismissive wave, she said, “Very well. I suppose it’s only two weeks.”

Two weeks spent mostly practicing archery, experimenting with the “bombos” symbol, playing her flute, consorting with the queen, and – talking to the wisp in the bottle.

“Terrorizing, oh, that’s a fine phrase, indeed,” complained the wisp when Anna hung the bottle by her bedside that night. “Who do you say is terrorizing whom?”

“You, and the world,” said Anna. “Now, be quiet.”

“Yes, such a terror, a little blue fire in a bottle,” it moaned. “Have to keep him locked-away, goddess knows what kind of trouble he’ll get into. He might singe a leaf in the forest, and then where would we be? Why, the very fiber of civilization itself would sunder, and everything would collapse into dust – all just because we didn’t keep that poor little fire trapped in that uncomfortable, cramped little bottle.”

Anna looked at the bottle coolly. “I’m _not_ letting you out.”

“Well, why the hell not?”

“Because you’re a terror.”

“Oh, we’re back to _that_ again?” exclaimed the wisp exasperatedly. “I’m done terrorizing! My terrorizing days are done! Kaput! Ich terrorisieren nicht mehr! Watashi wa terorizu shimasen! Net bol’she terror! Pas plus de terreur! Jiéshù kǒngbù! Is any of this getting through to you? Any of it at all? Verstehen Sie?”

“It seems to me,” said Anna very impatiently, her face level with the bottle, “that you are forgetting the small matter of your behavior not _moments_ before I put you in that bottle. Now I’m keeping you in there until I can find a witch to exorcise you.”

“Now hold on just one moment,” said the wisp with agitation. “People can _change_.”

“Not really,” said Anna huskily, and, straightening up, she went to the window sill to play a bit on her flute.

It had transpired that the wisp was a markedly different character than whatever darkness had infested the Elderbarrow. By its own admission, they were one and the same entity, but Anna didn’t know how you got one from the other, especially considering the wisp didn’t even make a cursory effort to come off as malevolent, whereas the shadow under the hill came off as the very soul of evil. If she didn’t know better, she’d call it pathetic; as time passed, it grew more and more morose, and less talkative, and even seemed to start forgetting things.

So, the next day, she took it with her to see Maple. She also wanted to show off her golden gauntlets – if she knew anyone who would appreciate their magic, it was Maple – but to her dismay, a sign was posted on the door to the cottage saying “OUT ON BUSINESS”.

Anna knocked anyway, and waited, and knocked again minutes later. Finally she called Maple’s name, and when no answer came still, she gave it up and trudged back to the Arenborg.

At some point during the next week, Lord Hugoss’s sons entered the castle to stay as guests of honor. They looked like their father not at all – they were all of normal build and had handsome features, and though they did not look quite alike, the manner of their dress and behavior left no doubt as to the fact they were siblings. They bowed simultaneously before the queen and thanked her graciously for having them as guests of honor.

“It is a great honor, Your Grace,” said one of them, the tallest with blond hair. “I have the pleasure of being Ragnar Hugoss, the eldest son of our lord father, whom you know as Lord Magnar Hugoss.”

“And I am Thagnar Hugoss, the second-eldest son of our lord father,” said another, the shortest with brown hair.

“And I am Aagnar Hugoss, the youngest son of our lord father,” said the third, middling in height with blondish-brown hair and a somewhat dour complexion.

The queen received them gracefully. “It is my hope you will enjoy the hospitality of Lord Burrows for the meeting next month.”

The boys – truthfully, they were men grown, in their early-twenties at least, but had an unmistakable air of youth to them – looked at one another nervously. “We hope so too, Your Grace,” said Ragnar, and he bowed again. “It is our great privilege to serve the queen.”

Anna thought they seemed decent enough, but Hans gave an oily smile and said that it is easy to seem decent enough when you were raised with the finest upbringing of any lord or lady in the kingdom, sans the Royal Family themselves. “Be on your guard, my lady Anna,” Hans had said seriously. “Keep an eye on them.”

For Hans’s part, oddly enough, at one point that same day a small entourage of six men in black cloaks came and visited him in his solar, and left before the night was out. But Anna dutifully focused on the Hugoss men, and kept them under watch through the next week and a half, ordering the guard fulfil functions to this effect. The time passed tensely at first, then quickly – and in short order it really seemed as though they had nothing sinister planned. The eve of July came, and they left the castle with an entourage, bound at a leisurely pace for Burrowstown.

That same evening, Anna took the wisp-in-the-bottle with her to see the queen. She tucked the bottle under her tunic as she climbed the steps to the queen’s solar.

“I can’t see anything down here,” complained the wisp.

“Shush,” said Anna, and the wisp shushed.

Elsa smiled warmly as Anna entered the room. “Good evening, Ser Anna. Please, sit. The other day we were discussing Joan of Arc – I trust you recall.”

“Oh, yes,” said Anna. “I am quite an admirer of hers.”

The queen nodded. “I could tell from the way you spoke of her. I was only wondering – why?”

“Why do I admire Joan of Arc?”

“Yes,” said Elsa. “Specifically.”

Anna furrowed her brow in concentration. “I suppose that her… commitment inspires me. And I know it is only a personality gleaned from reading books about her, but that’s the ideal that she stands for in my head. Commitment to duty, honor. Doing the right thing.”

Elsa turned her head slightly. “And those are the ideals you prize highly?”

“Definitely, Your Grace. What is your impression of her?”

Elsa looked thoughtful for a moment. “I think you could say that I, too, admire her, though for slightly different reasons. I think it was a noble sacrifice she made.”

“Ah,” said Anna. “When I was younger, I did not think much of it. I thought it rather unfair.”

“Oh, it is unfair,” said Elsa bluntly. “But – well – her death made certain that another could lead a simple life. There’s a lot I find to admire in that kind of thing.” Elsa gave Anna a sad look. “To be quite honest, I think those ideals are rather fully embodied in you.”

Blushing, Anna said, “I have always striven to live that way.”

Elsa’s fingers tapped the side of her chair as she continued to regard Anna with a thoughtful look. “By the way,” she said at length, “I can’t imagine you’ve seen our picture room?”

When Anna replied that, no, she hadn’t, the queen led her through the castle: down the stairwell of the Queen’s Tower, across the ramparts, through hallways and into a chamber at the base of the King’s Tower, shorter and squatter than any other tower in the keep.

“Despite its name,” Elsa explained, “no king has ever lived in the King’s Tower. This is a tower filled with curiosities and treasures of the Royal Family.”

“Really?” said Anna. “I thought that, if any tower were to have treasures or curiosities in it, it would be the Tower of Arendelle.”

Elsa laughed lightly. “You would think that, yes – but the Tower of Arendelle has nothing in it.”

“Then why is it that nobody but members of the Royal Family are allowed inside it?”

“Tradition,” said Elsa, stopping before a nice, well-cut door in one of the tower hallways. “I lied, a little. There is just one room in the Tower of Arendelle. It is a room of prayer. On my thirteenth birthday, I saw the inside for the first time. There are windows of the most beautiful stained glass, and through them… you can see… well, I know it can’t be the entire kingdom, but it certainly seems like it. It’s a beautiful sight, almost as beautiful as the sight from the North Mountain…” She stopped, and looked at Anna uneasily – but Anna was only looking on with wide and curious eyes.

“It sounds amazing,” said Anna with a sigh, and, looking down, added, “It may sound silly, but I rather wish I could see it. When I was younger, I always wanted to climb the North Mountain. I never thought about it, but the view truly must be beautiful from up there.”

“It is most beautiful above the cloud line,” said Elsa quietly.

With that, Anna’s reservations filtered away. Wandering around the castle with Queen Elsa seemed oddly right, vaguely conspiratorial, even mischievous, although nobody in the entire world had the authority to tell them to stop. She met the queen’s eyes and giggled.

“After I’ve finished your quest,” said Anna, “I think I’m going to take a sabbatical and climb the North Mountain.”

Elsa only smiled and pushed open the door. Inside, thin glass windows cast soft, cool light across the length of a long room, walls lined with portraits, paintings, and sofas. At the very far end sat a portrait of the Young King and his queen, below which was a strange-looking piece of furniture, painted black. It was like a box on four conical legs, and sat above a long-topped stool.

“Come here,” said Elsa, gesturing to Anna to follow. “This portrait,” she pointed at a portrait above one of the sofas, “is an old painting of Joan of Arc.”

Anna stood beneath it and looked. It was an old painting, but finely framed in a modern, elaborate design of painted wood. In it, a fierce-looking woman with short brown hair sat on the back of a rearing horse. She dressed in steel plate and held a sword above her head, and her eyes were painted with burning determination.

It was, oddly, exactly like the Joan of Arc Anna had pictured in her head.

“Wow,” was all she could say.

For a long time, the two of them stood there, side-by-side, admiring the painting together. Elsa spoke, and Anna snapped her eyes away from the painting.

“It’s painted on wooden panels, done in the Helvetian-Lutetian style. The artist was a Lotharian, actually, a one Caiaphas Saunders. We’ve owned this painting for quite a long time. I thought,” she said with an unsure look, “that you’d like it.”

“Absolutely,” said Anna. “It’s gorgeous, really. In fact, somehow it perfectly fits the picture of Joan that I had in my head.”

Another moment of contemplative silence followed. “Sometimes I wonder if paintings could talk,” said Elsa, “what would they say?”

Anna jumped in remembrance. “Oh! That – That reminds me… About the wisp I found in the Elderbarrow.” Anna lifted the bottle out from beneath her tunic shirt, and held it out in front of her by the string. “It can talk,” she said. “I mean, _really_ talk. About things. Listen. Wisp – talk!”

“An infinite stretch of the cosm lies before and behind me,” said the wisp blandly, “I am a point between infinity – do I even exist?”

Anna looked up. “See?”

But Elsa only stared blankly. “See what?”

Anna blinked. “Can’t you hear it talking?”

Slowly, Elsa shook her head. Frowning, Anna looked at the wisp again. “Hey, what is this? Why can’t she hear you?”

“What are you asking me?” said the wisp in a thoroughly put-off tone.

Elsa gave no indication she heard that, either.

“Never mind,” mumbled Anna and she stowed the bottle away again.

Elsa giggled lightly into her gloved hand. “Talking to bottles now, are we? Well, well.”

“Ha ha,” sneered Anna with a barely-concealed smile, and she looked around the dim blue room. More paintings lined the walls, frescoes and like. She found herself looking at the black boxy item at the end of the room.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing.

“Oh, that,” said Elsa, “that.”

They went over to it, together, and Elsa pulled the stool out and seated herself primly on it, such that she faced the box. Carefully, she inserted the tips of her fingers into a groove on the box’s side, and lifted. A lid parted the box, and revealed an assortment of black and white bars, and a complex arrangement of spider webbed strings.

“This is a clavichord,” said Elsa. “It’s an instrument, you see – for making music.”

“Music? Like a flute or a lute?”

“A little,” agreed Elsa, “but not quite. It’s very quiet, tender. The sound it makes doesn’t tend to stand out – I can demonstrate, if you like.”

She turned her head and locked her ice blue eyes with Anna’s. A strange feeling came over her; automatically, she said, “Yes, please,” in a soft, plaintive voice.

Elsa moved her hands and fingers over the keys of the clavichord. Faintly, the sound emerged, dark and resonant but also shy. The grace with which Elsa’s hands played suggested to Anna of coaxing out the sound from within, like a song was hiding in a cavern, and only needed to be soothed with sweet words, to come out and spread its brilliant plumage.

And that song was a song of skies, of falling rain, of wayward raindrops and flowing calm. It was a song of gifts, of laughs shared lightly once – and then, of laughs that echoed in large, empty chambers, and slowly died down; of refusal and deep lakes and depths. And a door, carefully shut; and a distant, forgotten past.

Anna’s breathing became shallow. Elsa stopped playing after a point, the last sound disappearing as she lifted her finger from the last key. “What’s that?” she asked.

Anna blinked, and looked down. A thing was in her hands, light and wooden and full of holes.

She was holding Saria’s flute.

Elsa recognized it the same time Anna did. “A flute. Do you play?” she asked.

Anna didn’t know what made her do it. She nodded yes.

Elsa played again, and continued the song, and this time Anna blew into the flute and added her voice to Elsa’s. The melody was hard to find, and at first they clashed unprettily, but neither of them quit and soon Anna found the note, the exact right note that harmonized with the soft, sweet sound of the clavichord, and, playing in the shadows of silence, they proceeded together. It had been a song of uncertainty and despair, of finality; and by a motion of air, Anna rebelled against it, and then there it was: a song of hope and tomorrow, and of hands carefully joined, and a one, kneeling, with all her heart and soul promising to the other, who was as a mirror; also kneeling, also promising, and the reflective glass stood still, between them, and nothing joined at all.

Elsa stopped playing with a sudden sharpness. “Let’s play something else,” she said quickly.

Taken aback, Anna only nodded.

“This,” said Elsa, a strange note of conviction now occupying her voice, “is a song my father taught me. It is the song of the Royal Family, passed down for generations.”

“Oh,” said Anna quietly. “Should I…?”

“Yes.” Elsa began to play. It was a short song that repeated once, and Anna immediately picked it up. She reproduced the sound with Elsa, and then together they played it, a haunting, lilting melody of ancient times.

Anna shifted uncomfortably as something shivered on her thigh. She stopped playing and looked down, putting her hand to Autumn’s hilt reflexively. It felt warm, and somehow the ruby caught the light with a greater acuity than usual.

Elsa noticed Anna stopped, and turned to speak, but said nothing. They looked at one another for eons in the cool dusky light of the room. The window cast the moon’s sheen as a single sheet, unperturbed or undecked by clouds, or…

“It’s stopped snowing,” said Anna in awe.

Elsa turned and looked, too, out the same window. Her jaw dropped.

“It has,” she murmured in a soft, high voice.

“What do you suppose it means?” asked Anna.

And Elsa met her eyes again. Tears filled them. “I… I don’t know.”

A million feelings filled Anna’s heart. She threw herself to her knees before the queen and took a gloved hand in both her own. Elsa gasped mutedly, and Anna tightened her hands protectively around the queen’s.

“I promise you that whatever this is,” said Anna unsteadily, “I will end it. For you. Please, don’t be afraid.”

“Oh, Anna,” said the queen, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Aren’t _you_ afraid?”

Anna couldn’t help being honest. “I am. I’m afraid of… a lot of things.”

A mixture of emotions crossed Elsa’s face, including a type of bewildered, admiring amusement. “Really? Not you.” She smiled ridiculously. “Look at the things you’ve done.”

“Yes, me. Really,” said Anna with an earnest chuckle, “I’m afraid of a lot, but none so much as… as failing you.” She tightened her grip again. “And, for you… my other fears are nothing.”

Elsa’s face broke. She squinted her eyes and her other hand rose, trembling, and extended infinitesimally towards Anna – but she pulled it back and turned away. “You won’t have to be afraid any more. Just two more pieces, and the simple life… is yours.”

In her room that night, as Anna hung the bottle by her bed, it spoke.

“That was really interesting.”

“What’s that?” asked Anna, deep in confused thought.

“Oh… the two of you. It reminded me of something.” The wisp paused for so long it appeared done talking, until it said, “It made me think of how different things could have been, if…” and it trailed off into utter silence.

Anna blinked at the wisp and curled up in her bed.

“If anyone could keep a promise…” said the wisp, right before Anna fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

“The Ice Temple,” said Hans, pointing to a blue dot on the map. It was in the far east of the country, near the border with Weselton, a few leagues north of Eastport. “The oldest temple in the kingdom. A prized tributary of House Linnaeus, of whom I trust you know.”

“The Lords Paramount of Eastgreen,” said Anna with a firm nod.

“For however long that remains to be,” he said with a tsk. “The last of the Linnaeus line is an old, done man. Lord Linnaeus has no heirs except a Weselton countess – his niece. When he dies, that’ll be it for House Linnaeus. It would be a pity, but, you know, their own fault, really, for rising up in the Weselton war.”

“It _is_ a pity,” said Elsa, raising an eyebrow at Hans. “The Linnaeuses have ruled Eastgreen for so long they are viewed as synonymous. They’re an old house.”

“A dead house,” said Hans with a shrug. “Anyway, that temple was built to honor she who is called the Goddess-Who-Stayed. Many hundreds of pilgrims visit there yearly.”

Anna raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t sound like a place a golden shard would be, then.”

“Ah, well, that’s the interesting bit,” said Hans, and he nodded to Elsa.

Elsa continued, “The temple consists of two parts: the chapel, where all are welcome to pray; and the Sanctuary, which has gone unken by men since it was first built. The temple chaplain guards the way, but with a command courtesy of the Royal Family, he will have to let you through. It is six hundred stone steps up the side of a mountain to reach the Sanctuary from the chapel, so make sure you’re ready for a long climb.” She chuckled lightly.

What Anna would find in the sanctuary neither Hans nor Elsa knew. The writings – even Ser Hiccough’s – only discussed an old spirit, allegedly a servant of the Goddess-Who-Stayed.

“Who is that?” Anna asked. “The Goddess-Who-Stayed?”

“The Goddess-Who-Stayed is something of the mainstay deity among those from Eastgreen,” said Hans. “Though, they simply call her the ‘goddess’. They allege that she was one of the three goddesses who created the world, and the only one who stayed behind to watch over her creation from her place in the sky. Now, I don’t know what that has to do with the Sanctuary, or whatever is within, but – it may prove helpful to know. Eastgreeners are very pious when it comes to their goddess.”

The way through Eastgreen was long, but pleasant. A branch east off the Springway brought her through the lower tip of the Up-And-Downs, where, between the rolling hills, the path wound and lead into the wide, open grasslands of Eastgreen. Eastgreen is populous and happy, a land of farmers and good weather. The northerly parts touch the upper fringes of chill, and in fact are where the Ice Fields themselves are, but the rest is windswept land of well-tilled green farms and cozy hamlets. Anna passed through half a dozen towns on her way to Eastport, and in every one she got the warmest kinds of welcome. They ate fruit and ripe tomatoes in abundant quantity, spent their summer days lazing about on well-kept lawns and gardens, gnawed on sugary roots, and watched orange sunsets pass beneath the thick, staying clouds in the west.

Once, Anna passed by a cottage that was a short ways from a nearby village. It was a quaint number, and had a fenced-off farm where a few sheep grazed. A thick garden clouded the land around the cottage.

“Aye little lady!” cried a man from the garden. He was surrounded by verdant plants and looked quite pleased. He rocked back and forth in a wicker chair, and his straw hat shaded his head against the beating sun. “You come from the west?”

“Crystalwater, in fact!” she called back.

“Ohh!” he cried, and she came up to him. He was rocking steadily. “Those clouds have been creeping this way for many months now. Tell me how you tell it, I’ve heard it told before but I never believe it.”

“For half a year now, it’s snowed in Crystalwater,” she told him. “And the storm has been spreading.”

“Bah!” scoffed the man cheerfully.

“But it’s stopped, now – for a few days it has not snowed at all, though the clouds go on lingering.”

“Bah!” he scoffed again with a big smile. “Thanks for your time to say so. And where are you headed?”

“I am looking for the temple – the Ice Temple, it’s called?”

“Ohh, a pilgrim,” said the man appreciatively. “Well, let me fix you some tea. I can always spare some tea for a pilgrim.”

“Thank you kindly for the offer, my good man, but I would like to reach the next town before dark.”

“Bah!” he scoffed. “What’s the rush? O – very well.” He laughed. “Happy trails to you, pilgrim!”

 _What nice people,_ she thought. Eastgreen seemed little affected by the troubles that plagued the rest of the country. People led their simple lives here, well and truly, blessed by good land and good weather. Though Anna had no cause to assume as much, she knew that if the storm spread to Eastgreen – well, it would be a damn pity. Thinking back to what the queen had said, her mind dwelled on Joan and what it meant to give so that others could live.

Well, that was why she was here, after all! To the temple, then, and she picked up her pace for the hours to follow.

At Eastport, Anna spent a long time admiring the way the harbor curved around the bay, where boats jingled with their harbor-bells and the city milled with the understated energy of the late afternoon. Eastport was big by a proper reckoning, but it did not seem that way – it was sandwiched between a verdant forest and the ocean, and nestled furthermore at the bottom of a gentle sloping valley. A small castle of rich gray and moss-covered stone sat at the edge of the harbor, on an outcropping of rock, and some white and red pennants hung from flagstaffs above it. She couldn’t make out their design, but she knew it had to be the castle of House Linnaeus. The old Lord Linnaeus would be in there, the last of his line. A line broken by one bad decision, and even that…

Anna remembered meeting the Valkyrie, and had the guilty knot that came with not thinking badly of her, although she had been – still was, for that matter – a traitor. She found herself wondering what caused the old lord’s son to rebel, and maybe, just maybe, they didn’t deserve what they got.

Anna really liked the way Eastport looked. Something about it made her want to build a cottage and settle there. She could fish in the summers and jack lumber in the winters. She smiled when she thought what the queen would say to that.

“ _That’s ridiculous,” Elsa would say with a coy smile. “You need to be my Lady Protector, so – how can you do that living in a cottage in Eastport?”_

“ _You could come with me,”_ _Anna offered in retort; and proffered her hand._

“Well!” said Anna out loud, with such volume as to dispel all thoughts from her mind. Blushing fiercely, she drove Epona into the village. “Now that _is_ ridiculous.” Besides, Anna didn’t really want to settle down. There was still so much to see.

_And Elsa would want to live in a castle, anyway._

The people of Eastport proved as amenable as the people she’d met on the way there. She took up lodging in a nice inn by the harbor, and went to sleep to the soft, constant crash of ocean waves.

She was dreaming and she knew it.

“I’m dreaming,” she announced to nobody in particular.

“Oh, so you are,” came a voice – the wisp. Only it wasn’t a wisp, not right now – it was the thing that had carried the lantern. And here it was, in her dream, carrying a lantern. Short and stunted and floating, dressed in ugly purple tatters and swinging its glowing blue lantern back and forth. From its black, unseeable face, two yellow eyes peered out.

A long time seemed to pass as Anna and the dark thing stared at each other.

“Hello,” it said. “Welcome to your dream.”

“You shouldn’t be in here,” Anna stated with sudden authority. She _knew_.

“Uh, well, no, not technically,” admitted the thing sheepishly. “It’s sort of what us Poes do, you see – enter people’s dreams. Steal their souls. Things like that.”

“Don’t steal my soul,” Anna warned the Poe.

“Brilliant injunction,” it deadpanned. “Next you’ll be telling me not to remove any snow from a volcano.”

Anna blinked. “What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing. Oh, since you’re here, we can have a bit of fun. What do you say?”

Anna blinked again. “Fun?”

“Yes, that’s right. You do know how to have fun, don’t you? Let’s go drop in on someone… Oh, what’s this? It looks like you’ve been doing this already…”

Anna blinked a third time. “A few weeks ago, I had a dream that I… was in Hans’s room.”

“No, not Hans, not that,” said the Poe, somewhat irritably. “No, no, no. You’ve been… Visiting the queen, is it?”

“What?” said Anna.

“Yes… there’s something here, a thread. You’ve done it a few times, actually. Hmm.”

The Poe paused.

“Okay, then.”

Something spun Anna around, and the next she knew, she was in the queen’s bedroom. It was exactly as she remembered it, although now better-lit. Streaks of moonlight filled the room and colored all within in midnight blue.

There, in the canopied azure bed, Queen Elsa was sleeping, calmly, her face a plaster mask.

“She is not dreaming,” commented the Poe. “But here we are.”

Anna walked over to the side of the bed. She looked so peaceful the way she was sleeping.

“Am I dreaming?” she asked.

“ _You_ are, yes; but this that you see is true. This is the queen as she is now.”

Anna said nothing, only stared at the sleeping queen. She was still.

“You’ve done this before. Or, you’ve had the queen’s dreams before.”

“Yes,” agreed Anna vaguely. “Now that you mention it, sometimes I’ve had… odd dreams.” She squinted her eyes and sat down softly on the bed. Although she could feel the sheets and mattress fold beneath her, somehow she knew she made no real impression. But she sat there and stared. Carefully, she extended a hand to brush a stray hair out of the queen’s face, but her hand only passed through it like it was nothing.

“It’s very odd,” said the Poe. “Something about Queen Elsa reminds me of… somebody that I used to know. You, too, for that matter.”

“She is quite the woman,” said Anna, and there was silence. Time seemed to flutter like woven silk as the blue light played its stillness across the room. “I’m not sure why, but I… I just find something about her. The first time I ever saw her, she was riding a horse and she didn’t seem very happy about it. She looked so worried and nervous. And now here she is, running a kingdom all by herself. Her parents died a year ago, you see, and suddenly at that. Ever since then, it’s all been turmoil for her. When I see her, I just… I want to help. I want to grab her hand and let her know I’m there, too. I want to do my part, because I see her and my heart just breaks a little at the world she put on her shoulders.”

The Poe swayed back and forth. “So – what about you?”

“What about me?”

“I See you, Ser Anna. Your burden is no less great. You have duties, responsibilities…”

Anna smiled humorlessly and stared at the floating apparition. “Those were all choices I made. But Queen Elsa had no choice. She didn’t ask for this, but she bears it all the same. Such a brilliant, humble, beautiful person, and I…” Her voice caught in her throat.

The Poe indicated its bemusement with a peculiar lantern flicker.

“I just wonder if I’m good enough for her,” said Anna at last.

“Why would you wonder that?” asked the Poe.

Anna stared blankly at the queen, who shifted in her sleep.

“She’s dreaming now. Would you like to see about what?”

The Poe didn’t wait for an answer. The world melted, and reformed in a burst of color. She was in an endless field of green, and tall, green stalks with small, green buds dotted the field all over. A fjord of dazzling crystal was blue and deep, and majestic trees swayed in a mighty breeze. A hill mounted the horizon, and cresting it just then was Queen Elsa, her long blue dress flowing behind her in the summer winds.

“I promised you!” she said, and turned to look down the opposite slope. A gust caught her hair and lifted it, one long braid swept by the temperate skies.

And beside her came Anna, also cresting the hill, dressed in her immaculate green armor with the golden vines and the long green cape, and the two golden crocus pins that fastened it to the gorget.

“Promised me what?” Anna heard her own voice – but it sounded only slightly like her own voice. In here, in this field, it was music itself, strong and confident and reassuring.

“Spring,” said Elsa, tears in her eyes, and with ungloved hands she grasped Anna’s. All around, the field erupted in gold, and the warm light of heaven poured out from the earth itself.

The light of heaven became the light of the sun as Anna woke abruptly. She rubbed her eyes. Moments ago, it felt, she was dreaming, or in the queen’s dream – or…

She fumbled and grabbed the bottled wisp. “Hey – you – did you…?”

“Yes,” said the wisp. “The queen dreams of spring. And you.”

She slowly got up as her eyes continued to fixate on the wisp. “I’ve had dreams like that before. I’ve seen… things. I didn’t know what they were, but I think they were… like that. Why is that?”

“I… don’t know,” said the wisp. “Magic leaves behind faint traces in the eaves of fate, and tangled skeins often give mortals vision beyond their sight. I think that you and the queen are… connected, somehow.”

“I dreamt about Hans once, too,” said Anna, with a peculiar feeling of disappointment in her gut.

“That was not your fault,” said the wisp, flickering feebly in the glass bottle. “That was mine. I sought him out, I brought you with me, but I… now I cannot remember why. Everything is… is foggy.”

Anna looked away and spotted the blue ring by the bedside, the odd whorls on its surface still drawing faint traces across an apparent endless sea. “This ring. The first time I wore it, I had a dream, too.”

“That ring is magical,” said the wisp.

“That’s what I was told,” said Anna, and she thought about Lord Morning, who gave it to her, and what he said. It was Ser Danton’s, originally. What dream did she have? She remembered a mountain pass, and a sword fight. But what else?

Later that morning, mounted on Epona, Anna struck out north, leaving the seaside city of Eastport behind her. The horse trotted quietly along beaten earthen paths that wound through high-growing hills. Some clouds blotted the eastern sun with the promise of a summer storm.

It was gray with overcast when a strange, eerie humming filled Anna’s ears. She realized it was coming from the bottle, so she drew it out and peered at it. It seemed – felt, almost – that the wisp was singing, singing in some mumbling, half-heard language, a whispering hum. The tune was familiar, but Anna barely couldn’t place it.

“What are you singing?” she asked.

“Ah,” the wisp broke off suddenly. “Just, that song. The one that the queen played for you, the one she taught you. Oddly familiar, isn’t it? I get a strange sense from it… a pain, almost… like… nostalgia.

“Yes… I’ve heard that song before. She composed it, she wrote it. She wrote it to bind us, and he, well, he used it. It was just one of the keys. There were three. Not sure what happened to the third one, but – the song, the shard. Elina always told me I was the most resilient of her guardians. Ha-ha!” It was rambling now, speaking quickly and incoherently. “What a fool she was! Fools we all were.”

It quieted down after that, and Anna couldn’t get it to speak again.

Snowcap peaks dotted the north horizon. The closest of them had a long set of etches done up and down its face; as she neared, she realized it was an enormous set of stairs, carved into the very mountain. It drizzled slightly and the sun peeked through the clouds as Anna came up the mountain’s side, rising above the crests of the nearby hills. It was partially forested in the hill valleys, but here the view was panoramic. She had reached a level section before the sheer face and the steps where a dark gray stone building towered out of the hill. Arches and columns decorated it, and its front entrance was tall and cavernous and accessed by a small stair. Outside, a bald man in homespun robes with a rope belt held out a collecting tin. Another man with a walking stick walked out the front entrance and put a few coppers in the tin.

“Blessed be,” Anna heard the bald man say as the pilgrim walked off. The bald man saw Anna approach and nodded respectfully.

“Another pilgrim,” he said. “Today is a good day for them, it seems. These rains, as well. Truly, the Goddess-Who-Stayed is busy this day. You may leave your horse out here; I, by the grace of the goddess, shall watch over her.”

“Thank you kindly,” Anna told him, and she dismounted. She told Epona to behave herself, and she gathered up her things and climbed the steps. The man’s eyes darted to her sword.

“No weapons can be permitted inside of the chapel. This is a holy place.”

Anna frowned and looked the man up and down. “Are you the chaplain of this place?”

“No,” said the man. “I have not that honor. I am but an acolyte. The chaplain is in the chapel, and he leads the prayer.”

“I must ask that you forgive me if I take my sword within. I mean to speak to the chaplain – I am sent by Her Majesty the Queen, you see.”

“I do see,” said the acolyte, “however, to spill blood in this holy place is a foul thing.”

Anna put her hand on her chest. “You have my word that I will not spill blood in this chapel.”

The acolyte narrowed his eyes. “Then – may the goddess judge your actions: bless you if you are true; curse you if you are false.”

Anna bowed in respect and proceeded into the chapel.

A long, high-ceilinged room greeted her. At the far end, a hairless, severely-jawed man in heavy black robes stood with head bowed; he stood beneath a tall stone statue of a sitting woman in a loose gown, whose overlapping hands held a single growing flower. She had a strong, matronly figure, thick but not fat, and eyes that seemed to follow one with calm intensity. Throughout the room, people knelt on reed mats before dishes of burning incense, many dressed in traveler’s cloaks. High glass windows let in the daylight, though it was still dim and some red candles helped light the room. The smell of burning incense was strong. One old man with gray hair and a thick white beard was stooped off to the side, and appeared finely-dressed in a white cloak with a red rose embroidered on it. A silver pendant hung around his neck, in which gleamed a large, brilliant emerald.

Anna heard a low mutter pervade the room, and as she walked forward, her steps made sounds that echoed off the high, stone walls. The muttering, she realized, was actually the voice of the black-robed man, who she took for the chaplain, leading the prayer. She could barely make it out, but though she needed to speak with him, did not want to interrupt. She sidled off to the side, near where the old man was, and knelt also in deference.

The old man noticed her approach with unconcealed surprise. “Oh – you are armed,” he said in an age-tested voice.

“I have been given leave,” explained Anna. “I hope it does not cause you discomfort.”

“Not at all,” said the old man. “I’ve seen quite a few swords in my time…” He gave her a shrewd, inspecting look. “You may consider this an odd question, as you are a woman, but would you happen to be a knight as well?”

“In fact, I would,” said Anna. “What makes you ask that?”

“Only that I had heard of a red-headed woman knight who lived in Crystalwater. So – I call you Ser Anna.”

Anna lowered her head. “Yes, you have the advantage of me – that is my name. How did you…”

“Tales of you have circulated far and wide.” He smiled a kindly smile. “I am an old fellow, gouty in the legs, and I have little to do but listen and read. Since you are the Protector of the Realm, I suppose I should introduce myself – I am Lord Karl Linnaeus.” He turned more fully towards her, and the emerald on his pendant caught the candlelight with a lingering gleam. “Welcome to Eastgreen.”

“Ah! My lord…” said Anna. “Please, forgive my lack of decorum. I did not know you would be praying here.”

“I need forgive you for nothing. All men and women are equal before the eyes of the goddess.” At this, he gestured to the tall stone statue at the end of the room; for a second, Anna thought its gaze appeared kindly. “It is indeed a good thing to pray here. For myself, I had meant to come last week, but – well, my gout, you know. I just couldn’t muster the strength. I am not as spry as I was, though I pray more often. Ah, but, in fact, I doubt you came here simply to pray, hm? This is not a religion of you westerners. But never mind that! We can discuss later what it is you need in Eastgreen. I will be happy to help in whatever way I can.”

“My lord, you are too kind.”

“Nonsense, I simply know which way the winds blow.” He sighed heavily. “Would that I knew that when I was younger – would that I knew from compass headings and the rising of the winds. Perhaps, then, my sons would still be alive today. When one is young, one wastes everything and loses all their time in foolishness; when one is old, one knows better, but has nothing left to waste or lose. Tell me, what good is that? Life is one great irony. Ah, me. Mayhap as a younger man, I would have done to be more devout.

“Please, forgive an old man his unsightly ramblings.” He chuckled humorlessly. “Though, let me impart a bit of elderly wisdom on you: it is a waste of time and breath to spend long hours justifying. If, at the end of the day, you lose the light of your life – it was not worth it.”

Anna nodded slowly, eyes locked with the old man’s, a deep, sad hazel. “Do you understand?” he said quietly.

“I think…” Anna paused. “No,” she said honestly, and looked away, ashamed.

“That makes you a better man than me,” said the lord. “May the goddess help you see it before you need it. How I wish I had told my son he was a fool! But I wanted so badly for him to become a man, to take responsibility – but alas.” He fingered his pendant, and seemed lost in thought for a moment. “Ser Anna, they say you slayed the Giant – is that true?”

“It is,” said Anna meekly. “He was my penultimate opponent in the queen’s tourney.”

“The Giant,” said Lord Linnaeus slowly, “killed my son in the passes of the Up-And-Downs. Ser Danton, my other son, who prized loyalty above all other traits. And so he was loyal to his fool brother to the last. If ever a man should not have been taken before his time, it was Danton. But he was too loyal, I think – loyal to his friends, loyal to his king, loyal to his brother and father and family, and loyal to the love of his life, and his unborn daughter. But nobody else prized loyalty like him, and when the world split, so did he. Mayhap it is best that he died – ah, but that is a justification! I am rambling again. Pardon me. The point is that I know that I should not rejoice in the Giant’s death, but a part of me stirred when I heard of it.”

Hesitantly, Anna said, “They say the Giant was moved to tears when he killed Ser Danton. That it… wore on him heavily.”

Lord Linnaeus gave a thoughtful nod. “A small consolation. Regret is one thing, foresight another. But I know these things are complex. In truth, I blame myself more than him. When the Giant brought me my son’s sword, Danton’s sword – the family sword, Elderfyre. Oh, I rued him and that sword!” He fingered the pendant again. “I had the sword destroyed. Such was my wroth. And the emerald that was in its pommel I nearly had smashed – but I came to my senses on that one. The emerald is an heirloom dating to the time of the Ice Queen – see it?” He held it up for Anna’s inspection. “It was given to us by King Andrew the Cold, one of three such special stones.”

“Three stones?” repeated Anna curiously.

“Yes, yes, the story is quite fascinating. One stone was given to the Linnaeuses; one stone was given to the Corels; and one stone was given to the Prince of Berk. Well, first the Prince’s line was smashed, when his son rose up in rebellion. They were exiled to their island and their holdings in the Up-And-Downs were seized. Then my son rose up and was crushed, and now House Linnaeus’s days are numbered. Oh, yes, I know the truth of it – such is my failure. But now, oddly, the young Lady Corel has risen up, too. She must not have read the history. How can she succeed where so many else have failed?”

The thought put an unpleasant chill in Anna just then. As she had developed a rather positive opinion of the Valkyrie, the very real idea that she would be put down, killed, and attainted made Anna uncomfortable. It didn’t seem fair – in fact, outrageously unfair given that the Valkyrie was only trying to avenge her dead mother.

Anna couldn’t help saying, “She was only trying to avenge her dead mother.”

Lord Linnaeus gave her an odd look. “You think so? You don’t think the idea of a realm all her own captivated her sense of greed?”

“Not at all, my lord. I think – the terms she sent us were for heads. Mine, Lord Myles, and Lord Hans. All our heads for peace. She accepts the authority of the queen.”

“In theory, perhaps,” said Lord Linnaeus with a conciliatory bobbing of the head. “But if she truly accepted the queen’s judgment, she would have left it at the execution. Wouldn’t she? So, by rebelling, she is saying that her own judgment is superior. It is a not-so-distant leap from there to insisting that she should submit to nobody’s judgment but her own, and demand independence. Wouldn’t you say?”

The logic appeared sound, but Anna was unconvinced. Cogs started turning as she thought it through, and idea after idea sprouted up in quick succession. “I met her,” she insisted. “She… she thinks that… that the queen is being manipulated, _controlled_ by others. You know what people have said? They say that Arendelle is, for the nonce, a triumvirate. Mayhap it’s _that_ she’s rebelling against, not the queen.”

Lord Linnaeus stared at Anna for a long time, unblinking. “Don’t the people say the triumvirate includes you?”

“I…” Anna shook her head in consternation. “They do, but… I nevertheless think that the Valkyrie has noble intentions.”

“Ah,” he retorted. “Well, noble intentions are noble intentions. Only time will tell who was right and who was wrong.”

 _That is,_ came a thought in Anna’s mind, _whether or not my head is on a pike, or the Valkyrie’s._ She shivered.

“I’ve talked your ear off enough,” said Lord Linnaeus, sighing. “I say, it seems that the chaplain is finishing up. Why don’t you tell me what you need?”

Anna looked up. The chaplain had brought his hands together and was silent, and around the chapel some others had put their hands together as well.

“I need to go to the Sanctuary,” she said. “I was told that, with royal authority, the chaplain would permit it.”

“Oh,” said Lord Linnaeus. “That is a lot to ask. In fact, I know not whether this chaplain will permit you to climb even with a royal decree. He is a very pious man.”

Anna frowned, and people started standing up. She stood as well. “I’ll give it a try anyway. Thank you, my lord.” She gave the old lord a friendly nod.

“And thank you, Ser Anna. I do enjoy a good conversation.” With some grunts of pain, he also rose.

Anna wound her way between the floor mats to the end of the room, where the chaplain stood in his solemn vigil. People were milling around now, some imitating the chaplain’s vigil; others, crowding together. One group of black-cloaked travelers were lingering near the side of the hall, hands ensconced in the folds of their cloaks, chattering hushed amongst themselves as Anna passed them.

“We’re late,” she heard one of them mutter; “shoulda been here a week ago.”

“Missed our chance. Old boy comes by every Monday, but that’s it.”

Above the chaplain, the statue of the goddess continued to peer impassively. Anna’s footsteps made loud sounds, and he lifted his head at her approach. His eyes immediately caught the sword at her side. The hairs rose on her neck as the feeling of being watched all over the room sprouted up.

“Welcome,” said the chaplain in a deep, sonorous voice. “I guess, by your sword, you are no pilgrim, but an emissary. Perhaps from the queen?”

“Yes, Your Holiness,” said Anna, and she lowered her head.

“Please, call me Brother in this holy place,” said the chaplain with a ghost of a smile. “As I shall call you Sister. We are all children of the Goddess-Who-Stayed. Now, then, Sister, I must ask you why you have come to me.”

Anna eyed him. “Brother,” she began uncertainly, “I have come to ask that you let me climb the steps and enter the Sanctuary. My queen has commanded that I – ”

“No,” said the chaplain in a firm voice, smile falling at once. “The Sanctuary is a sacred place, one that shall not be sullied by a mortal presence.”

Anna furrowed her brow. “I know this is a high request, but the queen commands it. It is a matter that relates to the security of the kingdom…” She looked around uneasily. A few in the room were looking at her, but she was not speaking loudly, and she wondered how much they could hear her. Still, she turned back and said in a lower voice. “I think that we should – I mean, I would that we spoke more privily, erm, Brother.”

The chaplain fixed her with a stony gaze to match that of his goddess’s statue. “All that you have to say, you can say before the eyes of your Brothers and Sisters; and the eyes of the goddess. I care not if the queen commands it – to whom do you think I am beholden, the queen or the goddess?”

He paused, actually waiting for a response. “Both?” tried Anna.

“No,” said the chaplain. “The goddess. It is my charge to protect the Sanctuary from mortal toils.” His eyes softened. “You are young, I see, so mayhap you do not appreciate what it is I protect. Do you know the story of the Goddess-Who-Stayed, young one?”

“I do not,” admitted Anna. “But… I must insist…”

“Enough of that!” snapped the chaplain. “I will preach to you Her Holy Gospel if you request it, but I will hear no more nonsense about treading sacred ground.”

Part of Anna deflated immeasurably at this, but another part flared up. _I am an envoy of the queen. I have to get through, I_ will _get through._

She took a deep breath and thought. _Maybe this calls for a more diplomatic approach._ “Brother,” she said levelly, “I would be privileged to hear the Gospel as it was preached by you.”

“Her Holy Gospel,” said the chaplain reverently. “No, it would be my privilege, as I am privileged to walk an earth forged by her hands; to live a life kindled by her flames; and to breath a breathe moved by her voice. For that is the Goddess-Who-Stayed, the third Goddess, and the kindest of them all.” His voice rose to a wail and he lifted up his arms. “For, in the beginning, there were Three Goddesses, and together they labored to make a world in the endless void. The first of these Three took her mighty hammer and smote it against the shale of aeons, and by her craft forged the earth of stone, earth, soil, and sand. The second of these Three took her hands and drew out the flame of the sun, and from this flame she put life into the world, the spark of the soul, the origin of originality. And the third of these Three, the greatest, breathed a deep breath into all of creation, and thus granted it motion, and blood flowed and wind blowed. And so, the earth was made. The Three Goddesses agreed henceforth by compact that they were never to meddle in their creation again. This compact would be sealed when they left the earth for good. So the first of the Three left the earth, and left behind her the bedrock she shaped; and so the second of the Three left the earth, and left behind her the lives she kindled; but the third – oh! – the third did not leave. She saw the lives of mortals moving aimless across her creation and could not bring herself to leave, for such is her endless compassion. Thus she stayed, and so she will stay until her work is done. This is the Gospel of – ”

A shout and a scream interrupted him, and he looked around wildly for the source of the noise. Anna turned, too, just in time to see the group of black-cloaked men descending on Lord Linnaeus.

“The Duke says hello, you old bastard!” yelled one of them, as they plunged a knife into the old lord’s chest.

Autumn was out of its sheathe. There were six of the men in cloaks, and they were putting knives in the old lord at all angles. Anna did not stop to scream or think, she jumped and sprinted, feet pounding the ground. She upset an incense dish but did not stop until Autumn severed one of the men’s spines.

They all tore away from the lord in unison. He fell to the ground.

“Kill her,” growled one of them.

Three dove at her at once. _Rookie mistake,_ she thought. _I’m not an old man. You won’t get to stab me from all sides._ She back stepped and two of them got tangled up in each other, shoulders banging together. She turned on the third and stabbed.

Autumn outranged his dagger and the man dropped it with a gurgle as the pinched steel parted his ribcage and savaged his chest. Anna lifted a boot and shoved him off the point of her sword, elbowing the next man to come in the gut. A knife bit her left shoulder and she bit her tongue in a stifling cry of pain. Mouth full of blood, she whirled Autumn left and connected. It ripped in a satisfying way. She jumped to regain her footing and slashed again, forcing the third man down to the ground.

Two more came, both with knives. They learned their lesson, this time – two angles. She caught one in the flank but caught the other’s knife in her upper abdomen. Her vision was growing blurry, and yet – everything seemed to gain a sharpness, an odd sense of focus set in. The smell of incense burned her nostrils. She slashed twice more and heard two more thumps.

She could not see the sixth man, but she smelt his fear.

“What the _hell_ are you?” he hissed, backing away.

She did not answer, and advanced on him swiftly.

He screamed and lunged. It was an awkward lunge, but it hit exactly right. The knife nicked her hand and she dropped Autumn in surprise. With a dizzying whirl, she hit the ground and lost her breath. The man was on top of her. He stabbed her stomach – once, twice, three times – each stab accompanied by a blinding flash of pain.

“ _Die, die, die!”_ he screamed as he stabbed.

Anna reached up her hands, grabbing his wrists mid-thrust. She twisted. He let out a cry of pain, tried to get away, but Anna’s grip was iron-tight. She clenched her fist and heard bone crack.

She lifted her torso up, pushing him back and back, until he was leaning away, eyes wild. She twisted and threw him down with a sickening crunch. He crumpled on the floor next to her, body twitching lamely.

She stood up, walked over to her sword, picked it up, and walked back to the man. She put her sword through him, and pushed until he became still.

It was very quiet in the chapel.

Everyone had left – evacuated. The stench of the room was some sickening mix of copper and incense. A groan drew her eyes to the fallen form of Lord Linnaeus. She went to his side.

He coughed.

“Ach… Ser Anna… It’s assassins…”

“I know,” she said sympathetically. “They almost got me, too.”

He blinked and lifted a shaky head. “You… killed them?”

Anna nodded.

“Good,” he said. “Where… is… never mind, I am dying now. My line… kaff kaff… ends with me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I should be sorry… kaff kaff… It was all my fault, wasn’t it? But to you, I am just another who dies. All of us must die sooner or later, I suppose… kaff kaff… I only wish I hadn’t wasted so much time… You!” A burst of energy seemed to fill him. “You should know… my son, Ser Danton, did not die heirless… He has a child, but I know not where she is… Here, take this emerald… The one around my neck, please, take it, I implore you. Find my son’s daughter. She is the heir to Eastgreen. I command it! Wherever she is… Please…”

With trembling hands, he lifted the emerald pendant up off his neck and handed it to Anna.

“Promise me you’ll find her…” he said faintly.

“I’ll try,” said Anna.

“Good enough,” said Lord Linnaeus, and he closed his eyes.

Anna took the pendant and put it around her neck. She sighed heavily and groaned. She was bleeding all over, and there was no help anywhere – yet, oddly, she still felt strong. Still felt like she could move. The blood did not seep out at speed, in fact, her wounds felt almost closed.

She looked around again. The goddess’s statue kept staring. Behind it, Anna noticed, was a wide door.

She didn’t know why, but she went through it. A cobbled pathway led to the slope of the mountain, where a tall stone set of stairs ran up and up to the cloud line. Something shimmered up there, out of sight.

Anna put her foot on the first step and pushed.

Then the second.

Then the third.

The pain decreased with every step.

At one point, she closed her eyes in weariness, though her legs kept moving.

When she opened them again, the clouds were just above her head. A streak of sunlight came out of the west. It was dusking.

She stumbled forward across a rocky plateau. Another mountain face rose up before her, in which was carved a door made of solid ice.

“Hey! You! What are you doing up here?” came a batty old voice. A woman with stringy green hair and a pointed purple hat hove into view, her wrinkled face screwed up in a look of intense concentration. Her eyes shot open and became tea saucers.

“Anna!” she said. “By the goddess, what’s happened to you?”

Anna blinked and looked at Syrup the witch. “I got into a fight,” she said lamely.

“I’ll say! By the goddess, a fight indeed – you’re bleeding all over – _look_ at that!”

Anna looked around her. A thick pool of blood was puddling at her feet and trailed out behind her. Syrup tottered over to the edge of the stair and looked down, clucking incredulously.

“You climbed all of that, bleeding like that?”

Anna shrugged. “I guess so.” She collapsed to the ground.

A few lifetimes later, Syrup appeared over her head, a clear glass bottle of bubbling blue liquid in one hand. “Open up.”

Anna stupidly opened her mouth. The acrid blue liquid slid down her throat and caused her to nearly gag. It was over before she knew it, and she shuddered. She felt a tear roll down her face, and she laughed suddenly.

“I’m such an idiot,” she said to the sky. “I just do not think at all.”

“Courage and idiocy usually go hand in hand,” said Syrup dryly. “Just lie down for a while. This potion will heal up your wounds, but it won’t give you back your energy. And, _your wounds!”_

Anna blinked. “My wounds?”

“Oh, yes. Frankly, you should be dead ten times over. Your endurance is… well, it’s something else.”

“Where am I?”

“The goddess’s Sanctuary. I usually come up here for a little peace and quiet, work on some of my high-altitude potions – but, well, you just had to stumble up here bleeding half to death! I had to abandon my batch of mushroom stew. It’s ruined, now.” She clucked dejectedly.

Anna looked at Syrup’s wrinkled-up face. “I’m sorry,” she said sincerely.

"Oh, I know you are, honey. Honestly, I don't know what Maple sees in you. I suppose she takes after her mother; my daughter always had a weak point for knights with more courage than sense, too."

Anna closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. “I’m at the Sanctuary, you said?”

“Yes, that’s right. What are you doing up here? Didn’t you know where you – hey, sit down!”

Anna was struggling to her feet. Despite Syrup’s gesticulations, she extended all her limbs and stood up. She looked at the door of solid ice.

“I have to go in there,” said Anna.

“Good luck. Only those who know the sacred song can persuade that door to open. Old sorcery – very powerful. And _you_ should be rest – hey, come back!”

Anna stood before the door. Her flute was in her hand. It was a good thing, she reflected, that she decided to bring it along.

She played the song Elsa taught her. Elsa’s song, she decided.

The door opened like a yawning mouth, revealing a high hallway within. A cool breeze burst out of the sanctuary. Anna stepped through, and the door closed behind her. Light poured in through tall window holes at the top of the hallway. It was all carved stone, blue, looking and even seeming strangely like ice. Patterns wrought in deep and shallow cyans colored the length of the hallway like recursive imaginations. Impossible geometries were all anon.

The hallway ended abruptly at a large wall with further patterns. Carved therein was the six-pointed snowflake, athwart a spiral that splintered out and touched everything.

The sound of wind blew through the chamber with reckless abandon.

Anna was tired.

She put a hand on the six-pointed snowflake and rubbed it gently. It felt cold, even through her gauntlets. It wasn’t ice, yet somehow it was. It was ice of a sort. It was rock that belonged in this room and nowhere else. It was rock blessed by wind and snow, by the cold embrace of the hovering abyss that crowns everything.

The dusking light colored the snowflake in a mournful indigo.

Before her eyes, the wall began to shift. The snowflake seemed to rotate, slowly at first; then much faster, and the spiral acquiesced before the spinning points. It was like a lock was being undone by hundreds of tiny turning tumblers. The image resolved itself at last into a much bigger snowflake, more imposing and more detailed, that covered the entire wall with its designs.

“Hey there,” came a drifting voice.

In the center of the room, something was floating. Something small, and short, with a big head. Anna thought of the makoki at first, but this was quite different. It was completely white, for starters, but a kind of off-white, a softer white tempered by a faint blue glow. It had a curvy little body and a head with long, flowing blue hair that Anna knew at once was the color of the sky – and as she looked, it, too, changed to all the colors of the sky. Gray and white and red and purple and navy. But mostly blue. It had huge blue eyes that seemed to glow. It smiled easily. It reclined in mid-air, head propped up with one tiny little hand, and seemed pretty comfortable.

“Been a long time since I had a visitor,” it said.

Anna felt the wisp stir. She pulled it out of her tunic as if on reflex.

The floating thing’s countenance fell as it noticed the bottle, and then it lit up again with an enormous smile. “Oh wow,” it said with glee, “Jalhrimnir, is that _you?_ ”

“Hi, Chione,” replied the wisp with apparent bashfulness. “I, uh, don’t suppose you’d help me out of here, would you?”

“Oh, not a chance, not a chance. Do you remember what you called me the first time we met?”

“I’m sure I don’t.”

“Well, I do. You said something stupid and pompous. You called me a ‘vain impression’ or something like that. Do you remember?”

“No.”

“That’s too bad, really. Well, Jally, looks like you’re doing a bang-up job protecting the shard. Although, I really have to wonder what your current strategy is. I assume the bottle thing is just a ploy, yeah? Get this little lady to lay down her guard?”

The wisp said nothing, so the floating spirit just continued. “Wow, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say old Jally is ashamed! In fact – yep, I’m guessing that’s what all those draugar were about.”

“No,” sputtered the wisp, “that was – I _meant_ to do…”

“Whatever. Shut up. I want to talk to your conqueror. So!” The floating spirit’s eyes snapped to Anna. “Hey there, again! I’m Chione, I sort of run this little place here. It’s kind of off-limits to mortals and stuff, so, you know, we’ll have to do something about you being here and all. What’s your name? What brings you here?”

“I’m Anna,” said Anna with a bemused shrug. “I almost died outside but now I’m here for some reason. I want the piece of the Golden Power that you’re guarding.”

“Oh, wow, yeah, you know the score, huh?” said Chione with a thoughtful lip-quiver. “Well, let’s get this over with. Blah-de-blah, ‘Get out of here, mortal,’ ‘I am an impossible power with strength beyond mortal ken,’ and so on in that fashion.”

Suddenly, Chione shot high into the air, where she adjusted herself vertically and raised her hands out in front of her. She wiggled her fingers one by one, and out of the ground in front of Anna, something remarkable happened. The ice-stone of the flagstones seemed to rise up, as though pulled by thousands of tiny strings. It spired and twisted and re-shaped itself as it climbed, as slowly all of the individual parts began to merge and form together.

Anna pulled out her sword and shield.

A soldier stood before her, clad in armor the color of ice and snow, the visor on its helmet black and distant. A spiked flail ball rested on the ground like a sharp mass of crystal, and in its other arm it held an icy shield whose face, Anna was astonished to see, was a mirror of impeccable quality.

The soldier raised its shield, and Anna found herself strangely drawn to it. She could see herself perfectly in the mirror. Her clothes were tatters; she looked worn, scuffed, beaten, and bloody. Weary beyond measure. The longer she looked, the more powerful the image became – soon, it was as though she was staring at an infinitely older version of herself, skin drawn tight over bleached bone, dry and cracked and on the verge of dust.

She was so transfixed by the image that she almost didn’t notice the flail hurtling towards her. She snapped her shield and the spiked ball glanced against it with a screech. The soldier swung it in a wide arc and brought it down again – clang, once more.

This time, Anna went in for the counterattack, but the soldier blocked her sword with his icy shield and shoved it forward. Once again, she was transfixed by her reflection, and a crawling fear filled her heart.

_Failure, failure, failure, failure._

The flail slammed her shoulder and she stumbled. She blocked the next attack, and the next, but when she tried to stab, the shield mesmerized her once more.

_What are you? A monster._

She blocked the next attack so badly it sent her reeling. She fell and a white-hot pain shot through her shoulder. Grimacing through the tears, she looked up again – and the _shield…_

_Who are you? A murderer._

Anna tried to say something, but her voice was hoarse and empty. The image of her on the shield, old and dead, drew closer and closer.

_Why are you here? To die._

Anna gazed helplessly into the shield, and her reflection gazed back. Deep, sunken eyes, devoid of life and purpose. Her hair was white, cracked and crumbling, and tied in two long braids.

Two long braids.

Astrid’s voice rang in her ears.

“ _But some vows, some things… are still more important than others. So on the day I swore myself to Lord Edward’s service, I tied my hair into two braids: one for each person I would vow always to protect.”_

“ _Your son… and Anders?” asked Anna._

_Astrid shook her head and gave Anna a sad smile. “My son and Lord Edward.”_

“Elsa,” said Anna.

And the image of the queen came full into view, then. So tender and beautiful. Riding her horse, speaking to the crowds on coronation day. Speaking to Anna in the lists after the tourney. Laughing and reading her letters, enjoying chocolate, sleeping wearily on the blankets by the lagoon side. Anna was there.

 _I am her Protector,_ she thought.

A heat blew through Anna like a flame fanned by a mighty bellow. Burning, she stood.

A simple life for others. A simple life for Elsa. Anna craved that now, and she knew it. More than anything else, she wanted that – she wanted Elsa to be safe and happy. And this was what stood in the way. She would do it no matter the cost.

“Oh,” said Chione.

Anna blocked the flail staunchly and struck back. The shield only reflected her as she was – braids flying through the air, fierce and determined. And she thought she could see the queen, too, behind her.

Anna loosened the straps on her shield and, with a powerful swing, hurled it at the soldier. It collided with a resounding bash, and the soldier stumbled backwards while the shield ricocheted away. Anna reached to her belt and snapped off one of the sigil-chunks. She stomped forward and seized the soldier bodily, lodging the sigil-chunk into its armor.

“Bombos,” she whispered, and kicked it away.

It exploded in an array of color. A rainbow painted across the room as the icy soldier melted into nothing. The flail burst into a cold mist. A snowdrift fell where it vaporized, and what remained on the ground was only the icy shield, its perfect surface continuing to reflect the world. Elsa waved from it, smiling warmly at Anna.

Chione floated down again, opposite the wreckage of the soldier. Anna raised her sword, and Chione kept floating down until she was on the ground, staring fitfully at the ice shield.

“That’s me,” said the spirit wearily. “You have no idea how relieved I am.”

Anna sheathed her sword and knelt carefully opposite the spirit, the ice shield between them. She was momentarily transfixed by the image of Elsa, clear and vivid, on the shield’s surface. “The shard?” she asked.

“In a moment,” said the spirit, exhaling heavily. “A heavy weight has been pressing down on my mind these past six months. And now, it seems, it’s been lifted. Yes, I have the piece you’re looking for. Once, it was my proud duty to guard it – but now? I am glad to be rid of it. Jalhrimnir knows.”

“Oh, yes,” commented the wisp.

Chione lifted a hand, and a brief flash of light preceded the appearance of what was unmistakably the fifth shard. It cast golden light around the room, and floated over to Anna, where it hovered in mid-air.

Anna took the shard gingerly. It shined between her gloves surely, and she was keenly aware of a sort of presence behind the glow, like a shadow puppeteer that thrusts his hands before a lantern’s light, and when you turn to see him, he is obscured by the glare.

“There’s something there,” said Anna. “Someone. Isn’t there?”

“There is. That was the ingenuity of the Golden Power. Six pieces, and one that reigned supreme. We were her five, her trusted servants.”

“Yes,” murmured the wisp, “I remember, now; my memory is so foggy; everything is so foggy in here. Oh, I crave the void…”

“We were her five. We followed her because she gave and did not ask any in return. Aren. Nidhogg. Hafgufa. Jalhrimnir. And me. With our Queen, we made a covenant, and bound our souls to hers, and therefore was the Golden Power immortalized; we five, its guardians.”

Anna stared. “And the sixth piece?”

“That she gave to a human. And he charged us thus: protect this piece that I have given you;”

The wisp took up the mantra: “With all your essence and your being;”

“Guard it well from all without;”

“For the terror that lies within.”

They were all silent for a moment. Chione spoke again, “But six months ago, something changed. Our every impulse was twisted, changed. We all knew it was an intrusion, a… corruption, but… we all thought we could resist it. But it was not so. And now we are all unto ruin. Yes, even I. When you leave this place with that piece, I will fade into the northern wind – but into the arms of my goddess.” She smiled oddly. “She will scold me. I know she will. But I will only be happy to be home again. Home… it will feel good to be loved again.

“I know you will seek out the sixth piece. Be careful when you do. Something is wrong. Take this shield,” she gestured to the icy shield between them, which still bore Elsa’s beaming visage, “it is called the Isskjol. It is old magic. Its face reflects all – light, darkness, truth. Any who stare into it are laid bare before their own judgment. So were you – you think yourself a failure, a monster… and yet, something gave you succor. Someone, rather. She is stronger in your heart than all your mite insecurities, is she not?”

Anna blinked at the spirit. “What do you mean?”

“You are in love,” said the spirit, and it gave what might have been a sympathetic smile.

“In love?” repeated Anna with a bare hint of panic. “But… but I… _who?”_

“Take a look,” and it gestured to the shield again. Anna gazed, and she was still there: Elsa, with eyes like stars frozen in glaciers, hair like platinum beaten in a forge of snow, and mountaintop skin with the slightest freckles imaginable, simply smiling. It was not an empty smile, but a deep smile, one of true contentment, of happiness. It was the smile Anna dreamed of.

Anna’s heart exploded.

“No, I can’t be…” she stuttered, hands closing as waves of self-loathing slammed against the dikes of her conscience, “She’s my queen, and I’m… well… I’m just a knight, I’m… and I swore a vow, she couldn’t…”

But there was no denying it: the thoughts oppressed her. It was for the queen, Queen Elsa – _Elsa_ that she lived. It was for her that she went on these quests, and it was thinking of her that let her persist. And she couldn’t deny it because every little guilty thought crowded now to the forefront of her imagination. Every little one that wondered what Elsa looked like disrobed, or what her lips felt like, or how it felt to cup the swell of her breast. Of all such things, she knew little, but above all things, she felt the desire. It was a burning infatuation, a persistent admiration, and Anna felt hot in the cold room of ice.

“You don’t need to feel guilty,” advised Chione. “Having feelings is natural – choosing what to do with them is the hard part.”

Anna looked down tenderly at the shield. And Elsa was still, still smiling. “She’s smiling,” said Anna emptily. “I’ve never seen her smile this much. I’ve wanted to.”

“I think,” said the spirit, “you had better tell her.”

“What! No, I couldn’t!” exclaimed Anna in panic, looking up. But the spirit was gone. The sanctuary was empty. In her hand, she still felt the warm glow of the shard. And from the shield, Elsa continued to smile.

Anna put the shard away, and picked up the shield, carefully. As she touched it, the face of it seemed to ripple, and it was smooth and plain as ice, momentarily unreflecting of anything. It was light, much lighter than her steel shield. And much harder, too.

She buckled it on her back and wobbled to her feet. Trembling, half in fear and half in abject weariness, she stumbled into the final light of the day.

She collapsed at Syrup’s feet. The old woman helped her into a sitting position, clucking.

“My dear, you need to take it easy. A girl your age needs to know her limits.”

“I know,” said Anna. Syrup fussed with bottles of medicine while Anna sat there, eyes closing. “I’m in love,” she added after a pause.

“Ha! Big mistake,” advised Syrup, “big mistake. But not one you can help. Whom with?”

“The queen of Arendelle.”

The old woman stopped bustling. “Hmmmm,” she said. “Let’s get you into my tent. It’s growing night and you are in no fit shape to climb down those steps. Come on, now, off with your boots and gloves. They cut off your circulation, you know!”

Anna felt her boots slip off, and then her gloves, and then a sudden stillness seemed to drape the mountain.

When no more sounds or movements occurred for a long time, Anna cracked open her eyes.

Syrup was staring at Anna’s hands, mouth dangling open in complete shock.

“That ring,” she said softly. Anna craned her head to see the swirling blue ring on her left hand. “That’s my daughter’s ring.”

 


	20. The Eye of the Storm

Dark winds swept the mountainside and traced gray lines along the faint silhouettes of the slopes. The shadows of twilight cast a pall over everything, and in the fading light, the blue ring shone out with a peculiar clarity. Anna turned her hand slowly, and the whorls seemed to reflect what small light it could in an eerie, whitish glow.

Syrup spoke again, her voice low and dusty, “That is certainly my daughter Fenna’s magic ring. It has been years, and I never thought I would see it again… how did you come by it?”

“It was a gift,” said Anna simply. “No, not a gift. Lord Morning gave it to me, as it had been Ser Richard’s before I killed him in the queen’s tourney. And he got it from Ser Danton after they battled in the Up-And-Downs.”

“I see,” said Syrup. “Yes. And it was my daughter who gave that ring to Ser Danton first. Alas…” At this, Syrup leaned away and closed her eyes with a weary sigh. She opened them by slits and the mood seemed to darken considerably, no doubt an impression also given by the disappearance of the sun beneath the horizon. All was blue and black and Anna strained her eyes to see, though the ring continued to shine with an unnatural, vibrant glow.

“Ser Danton,” said Syrup in a low and reedy growl. “He was a fool of fools. An empty head and an over-full heart. He always did as he was told, and he never shirked his duty. But he loved my Fenna, and she loved him. He was humble, kind, and generous… but a fool. What am I to want for my daughter? That she love a good man, or a useful one? Perhaps none at all would have been better.

“That ring was what did it in for her. She poured her magic, her love and selflessness, into the ring. The bonds she forged with him were the bonds that bound that ring. So strong was it that all can feel the ring is magic when they wear it, and when they wear it, it impresses upon them the life and love of they who last wore it. My Fenna told Ser Danton it was a ring that would protect him, but – ah! It would not. It could only give him succor, and comfort him in the knowledge of her. That ring is protective, but not of the wearer – but of whom the wearer loves!

“When Ser Danton went to battle, oh, my Fenna wept; and shortly after, she bore his child, though she was weakened considerably by grief and the forging of the ring. And I thought to myself, _well, Ser Danton is a fool – but a faithful fool. And by his love, she will persevere, for such is the magic of the ring!..._ The greater a fool I was, for the birth was complex and she perished in the meanwhile. And my loathing for Ser Danton was immeasurable! Clearly he did not love her. He took her magic and betrayed her, and now they both are dead. Love! A big mistake.”

She stopped speaking and Anna stared wide-eyed at the purple sky, Syrup's words sinking into her mind. “What about the child?” she asked quietly.

“The child,” said Syrup, in a remote and distant tone, “was Maple. She was a sickly child, and weak, and I thought she would not survive long – but she did, in fact she grew hale and hearty. She cried often, and she acquired the pox at a frighteningly young age, but she lived. Ah, Maple… she means everything to me, now.”

“Maple,” said Anna, the words drifting into the air like a mote on a gust of wind. Maple, whose mother died so that she could live.

“Maybe Ser Danton was thinking of her,” said Anna. “Of his child.”

Silence stretched over them and the air grew tense, until, like a dull, whining hiss of air behind a cork, Syrup sighed and said quietly, “I had not considered that. Of course, now I see it.”

“So Maple is Ser Danton's daughter,” said Anna, and suddenly the world lurched as she sat up in a rush. “Ser Danton's daughter!” she repeated, eyes blinking wildly. “That means that she is the heir!”

“The heir? Of what? Calm down and make sense,” said Syrup.

The note of irritation caused Anna to pause and take a deep breath. She turned to face the old woman, though in the gloom she could barely make her out, and spoke carefully. “Ser Danton was the son of Lord Linnaeus, the Lord Paramount of Eastgreen – did you know that?”

Syrup nodded that, yes, she did know that, but she said nothing.

“He has no heirs. He died, in fact, not hours ago – and so Eastgreen will pass to someone not of the Linnaeus line. But Maple is Ser Danton's daughter: she has the blood of Eastgreen within her. By rights, Eastgreen is hers, you see...?”

Syrup shook her head after a moment's contemplation. “No. Maple is bastard-born, she has no rights to inheritance of anything.”

“That doesn't matter,” insisted Anna. “The queen can legitimize bastards... and I will see to it that she does! Without a Linnaeus heir, Eastgreen goes to a countess in Weselton, a woman named Lady Lyla. I... I seem to remember someone arguing about it... one thing is certain, without an heir, there will be turmoil. And I have Maple's mother's ring...! I know how she wanted to see it! I must see Maple and the queen at once!”

She tried to stand, but her body could not muster the energy for it, and she fell again flat and winced in pain. Syrup’s look softened at once, and she gave Anna a tender pat on the shoulder.

“Not now, my child. You should rest.”

“There is no time,” said Anna, though she could not keep the exhaustion out of her voice. “I must go at once...”

“We will make time,” said Syrup with a reassuring grin, half-concealed by the thickening darkness, “tomorrow. For now, you must rest.”

Syrup stood with a hobble and, moving with uncommon economy for such an old woman, laid out a series of heavy quilts. With a gentle prodding, Syrup rolled Anna onto the quilts, and tucked her in gently.

“Thank you,” said Anna, and she closed her eyes. Whether or not Syrup replied she did not know – she was already lost to slumber.

In her dream, she stood in a room of shadows, long and twisted. A window let in peculiar light that seemed to illuminate nothing so much as darken everything. Long streaks like black veils covered the room, and distantly a small door seemed to stand bleak and terrible against the surrounding, shifting walls.

Something hovered nearby, swinging its lantern, its golden eyes fuzzy and wavering in the strange light.

“Jalhrimnir,” Anna said to it, nodding.

“You’re dreaming,” said the Poe, as if it was noticing Anna for the first time. It wobbled back and forth. “Where are we?”

Without knowing how, she knew the answer, and told him, “We’re in Queen Elsa’s dream.”

“Oh, yes, I knew that,” said the Poe dismissively. “Look, there she is. Is that her?”

Queen Elsa stood before the peculiar window, and it was then that Anna realized the curtains were drawn, and the room was dark and very cold. The door began to pulse ominously in the wavering twilight, a constant thrumming noise that repeated slowly at first but picked up with foreboding insistence.

Suddenly the door flew open, and through it stepped, or stumbled, Anna – yes, it was Anna herself, or else a visage of her, but there was something wrong with it. It walked, stumbled, bow-legged, and was covered in bandages and red-soaked cloth, and bleeding from a thousand tiny cuts, bruised and wounded and battered. It tottered over, inhumanly slow, and collapsed at the feet of the queen. In its outstretched hand, lying bleeding and broken on the rushes, palm up, a golden shard floated and glowed.

The queen dropped to her knees before the wounded visage, and sobbed uncontrollably into her hands.

The sight of it stabbed Anna through the heart, and she ran, pumping her legs with hidden might, shouting, or wanting to shout, “Elsa! I'm okay!” But no sounds issued forth, and though she ran, she grew no closer – in fact, the more and harder she moved her legs, the wider and wider the room seemed to become, until the floor stretched out before her, huge and vast and empty, and Elsa was nothing but a dark speck on an indifferent horizon, an immutable line between the dream and the real.

Anna woke the next morning to the bright glare of the rising sun and a dull ache in her joints. A chill wind blew over the precipice and caused her to shiver. The first thing Anna saw was Syrup, standing by the edge of the cliff and wrapped tightly in rags, only her shrewd green eyes visible between the folds of a tightly-wound scarf. One gnarled hand clutched the end of a walking stick that tapped the ground.

“Feeling better?” she asked.

Anna stood carefully, her strength rejuvenated by the night's rest, and examined her body. She found that many wounds which had been open yesterday were, by now, only scars – red and pink and, in some places, swollen, but merely scars, and even as she looked at them, they seemed to heal. Her tunic, meanwhile, was a little more than a few close calls off from shreds.

“Yeah, I am,” she said, and took a deep breath of crisp, mountain air.

“Good. Come over here.”

Cautiously, Anna approached the cliff's edge, a few paces away from the long and winding stone stair.

“Don’t look down,” said Syrup, who shifted to the sounds of moving objects in the large rucksack on her back. She held out the end of her walking stick. “Grab this.”

Tentatively, Anna grabbed.

“Don’t let go,” said Syrup, “and jump.”

“What?” said Anna.

“Jump!”

Clutching the stick now with both hands, Syrup led the jump and Anna hastily followed, a brand of fear blazing her stomach the moment they left the reassuring presence of solid ground.

But, to her surprise, their descent was slow – much slower than falling ought to have been. They were barely floating down off the side of the cliff, swaying slightly like a fluttering leaf or petal. Then, gradually, they began to accelerate. Moments later, they were alighting on the ground next to the stone chapel, and the six hundred stone steps towered above them.

As they landed, Syrup jerked the stick away. “Okay,” she said, “come, come. This way, I don’t want anyone to see us or ask questions.” She struck out a brisk pace into a thicket by the side of the hill, that led down, away from the chapel.

“Wait,” said Anna suddenly, stopping. “My horse.”

Syrup gave an impatient look and huffed. “Oh, fine, go get your horse. Where did you leave her?”

“By the chapel,” said Anna, and she turned on her heels.

Around the front of the structure, where she expected to find Epona and the acolyte collecting alms, there was nobody – nothing. A brief moment of panic seized Anna, and she walked a little further around the other end. Still no one.

“I suppose everyone ran away,” she said to herself with a shiver. “Obviously, after what happened, but… but where’s Epona?”

She took to calling Epona’s name, to mounting anxiety. Eventually, Syrup appeared, rounding the corner of the chapel. “Is there a problem?”

“I can’t find my horse,” said Anna with dismay.

“There are other horses.”

“Not like this one,” Anna retorted. “I must find her.”

She called and looked around some more, going to the sides of the hill and trying to catch any glimpse she could – but it was no luck, and after some time, Syrup put a hand on Anna’s shoulder.

“Maybe she’ll turn up,” said Syrup. “We need to be going, meanwhile.”

“But how?” said Anna, annoyed, both frustrated at losing Epona and frustrated at Syrup’s attitude. “Without a horse, it’ll take a month to return to Crystalwater.”

“No, it will take ten minutes,” said Syrup with her own annoyed tone.

Anna stared dumbly at the old woman. “How do you figure?”

Syrup huffed. “Just come with me.”

But Anna ignored her and looked around again, a frantic feeling building up in her. She locked her gaze on the chapel doors which were, strangely, slightly ajar.

She moved to them against Syrup’s protest and, carefully, pried them open.

Within, it was much as she had left it. Acrid with the smell of the dead – the bodies had been left within, all of them – including Lord Linnaeus. The blood looked like paint on the ground, thickened in ugly, red pools.

And the statue – the statue stared down. Suddenly nervous, Anna backed away, back into the sunlight’s edge – but the eyes seemed to follow her. She stood in the threshold of the door, and remembered…

“ _To spill blood in this holy place is a foul thing.”_

She fled the chapel in a sting of fear, heart pounding as she stumbled to her knees some distance away from the door.

“Good goddess, what is it?”

Anna met Syrup’s eyes as the old woman hovered over her. Her throat scratched as she said, “I… I swore that I would not spill blood…”

Syrup’s face communicated recognition immediately. She looked at the door and back to Anna, and her mouth shrunk and frowned. “Whom did you kill?”

“Assassins,” choked Anna, curling over. “They were after His Lordship, and they… they killed him.”

A distant bird-call sweetened the air, though Anna shuddered in her dismal place. She swore she felt a black wind blowing from the chapel’s open doors, out onto the hill and against her back. A constant whisper occupied her mind: _“Broken promise, broken promise.”_

“Come on,” said Syrup quietly. “You are no longer welcome here.”

The old woman helped Anna to her feet with surprising strength, and together they carried off, away from the chapel. Its whispers faded as they walked, and they were once again at the head of the thicket, when something compelled Anna to turn.

“I’m sorry,” she offered the chapel. The words felt feeble even in her own ears, and although the whispers stopped altogether, the silence was more damning still.

Down the thicket out back of the chapel, Syrup led Anna through some brambles and in between some winding brush before they descended into a thicker grove with a dense canopy. The morning sun was hard to see, here, and the ground was lousy with roots and plants. Syrup picked a nimble path through it, and Anna, having been raised on such paths, had little trouble following.

The grove led them into a small clearing. A short, gray stone jutted out of the ground like a thumb, and sat in the middle of the clearing. It’s face was rough, but plain, and appeared slightly chipped.

“Here we are,” said Syrup, and she whacked the stone, hard, with her stick.

A humming filled the air, filled Anna’s ears, and then her eyes and mouth and even nostrils. It faded away as an imprint appeared on the stone – it was text, in relief, of a flowing, bizarre script. It said:

_Nae Dale thou go._

Anna read thus aloud, to a startled look from Syrup.

“You can read this?”

“I am trained in letters,” said Anna wearily, “yes.”

But Syrup’s look was not in the slightest bit softened by that admission. “These are not Arendellit letters. They’re an ancient script.”

Anna shrugged. “What of it?”

Syrup narrowed her eyes. “I can count the number of people I have met who can read this script on one hand and still have enough fingers left to stir a brew. My daughter was one, and I am the other.”

“Oh,” said Anna, and her skin crawled. “Well, I… I don’t know how I can read it. It just makes sense to me… but I know Arendellit the same way. One day I just saw some letters and… I just read them, without thinking about it.”

“Hmm,” muttered Syrup and she put on a thoughtful look. “That is very strange… Well. It is known as the lost script of the Ice Queen – among the learned, all they know is that it was her who made this script. My theory is that it was her who put these stones around the land. There are _several,_ but many leylines have been severed in the years since she was killed. This one goes to the Dale, and it is the only one I know that stands today.”

“Leylines?” repeated Anna.

“Ay-ye, yes. Patterns of energy, shortcuts through the material plane. They can be navigated through folds, opened up,” here she tapped the stone, “at stones like these.”

Anna stared blankly. “I’m sorry, I don’t – ”

“Then watch!” said Syrup, and she flourished the stick. The stone began glowing a faint, bluish color. “Put your hands on the stone.”

Syrup’s eyes flashed and she gestured hurriedly at the stone. Hesitantly, Anna put her hands on it. A few seconds later, and sudden darkness enveloped her. It was like she was hurtling through space, moving yet somehow standing completely still. Emptiness whipped all around her, and then, a burst of light appeared once more.

Anna was standing on a hill, next to another stone that looked rather like the one she had just seen back in the grove. A grassy field stretched out before her, interrupted by a long, gray streak that had to be the Springway, and the high, white walls of Crystalwater by the fjord. A late afternoon sun glowed over distant mountains in the west.

“By the gods,” said Anna with amazement. “What magic was _that_ , Syrup?”

But Syrup wasn’t there.

Anna looked around the low hill, at the sweeping fields and straggling trees and the distant belt of forest oaks, though in all of it, Syrup was nowhere to be seen.

A stirring emanated from her chest and, still bemused, Anna pulled out the bottle of the wisp that was stirring.

“What was that?” it said tiredly.

“I don’t know,” said Anna, and she watched the flame for a few seconds. It seemed smaller than it was, usually, somehow weakened or dying, like a candle nearing the end of its span. “Are… Are you okay?”

Her question did not register with the wisp. It warbled momentarily, and said, “Oh. Well, it felt good. I thought…” It trailed off, and did not speak again.

The city was gray, but not without light, and indeed the sun dared a glimpse through passing clouds. The ground held only a thin film of snow, and people milled about with quiet, busy looks.

Maple’s cottage seemed to loom above her. There was no sign on the door. Anna knocked.

Moments later, the door opened with a creaking whine, and Maple poked her head through the dark space.

“Welcome to Maple & Syrup's Potions Shops; potions, lotions, tonics, sundries, and salves for the discerning apothecary – _Anna!”_

The sound of her recognition accompanied a sudden gleam of smile as Maple grinned. Throwing the door open, Maple jumped outside and wrapped Anna in a tight, close hug.

Several long moments passed before Maple pulled away with a tight squeeze and a look that was almost shy. Her smile was coy, but reserved; and her brow slanted nervously. “It's been a long time,” she said. “I thought you had forgotten about me.”

“Forget about you? How could I?” said Anna and she chuckled. “I've just been a little busy.”

The corners of Maple's eyes went up and her smile widened somewhat. She stepped back into the door threshold and looked Anna up and down with an appraising gaze. As she looked, her countenance fell, and one eyebrow rose. “Are you okay? You look...”

“What? Oh, no, I'm fine,” replied Anna, a little hastily. She spared a cursory glance for herself and confirmed that the many small rips and tears in her tunic were still there. Looking as she did, suddenly the odd looks the city watchmen gave her coming into the city seemed to make a little more sense. “Really. All part of the job. Can I... come in?”

“Oh, sure!” said Maple, and her face lit up again. She retreated into the cottage and Anna followed.

Seated in Maple's cottage, Anna watched as Maple put on a pot of tea, all the while talking animatedly about her latest excursion into the woods. She had been gathering potion ingredients, and spoke of the latest crop of mushrooms and under-leaves, which, due to the frost, were harder to find than usual.

“So there's been a shortage of reagents,” said Maple at last, pouring two cups of steaming tea. “I got so few toadstools that I doubt I'll find even one the next time I go look. On the bright side, the weather seems to be letting up, and...” She paused for a moment, casting a sheepish, darting look in Anna's direction. “Well, the future's looking bright anyway. So what brings you to my cottage, Lady Too-Good-To-Come-Calling?”

“I did come calling,” said Anna defensively. “A few weeks ago, but I guess you were on your ingredient-gathering business.”

“Oh, that's convenient,” said Maple, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Well...” Anna's protest evaporated on contact to air, and so she just squirmed in her seat. “Yeah, I'm sorry. I've just been busy these past few months. Like... _really_ busy, you wouldn't believe.”

“Out fighting a war?”

“No, actually.”

“Then do you want to explain how you got those?” Maple gestured at Anna's torn tunic.

“Oh, um, just had a bit of a run-in with assassins...” Maple's snort of amusement disrupted her procession of thoughts.

“Just a few assassins!” repeated Maple, snickering. “All part of the job, right?”

Though her tone was teasing, and clearly playful, the look she gave Anna was more serious than that, and clearly concerned. “Yeah,” said Anna, and cleared her throat. “I also ran into your grandmother.”

“Really? Grandmama?” Maple's eyes widened. “But how? Where were you? She doesn't even tell _me_ where she goes...”

“I was in Eastgreen, a place known as the Ice Temple. She helped me and, actually, I suppose I have her to thank that I'm here in one piece. That would make it more times than I can easily recall that you two have saved my life.”

Maple didn't respond to that. She only smiled and sipped her tea, her bright green eyes flashing to the side.

“That was actually why I came here to talk to you,” Anna continued. Her cup of tea was still untouched and a thin line of steam continued to rise out of it, “because of a conversation we had. That is, if you weren't busy.”

“What? No!” said Maple quickly. “No, I'm not too busy. I can talk. What's on your mind?”

Anna looked at her cup of tea, resting and steaming on its little saucer on the little table. “It's about your parentage.”

Maple blinked, but said nothing, so Anna went on. “Your father. Do you know who he was?”

Slowly, Maple shook her head. “Grandmama never talked about  _who_ he was, only how he acted.”

Something in that made Anna pause. “Well, he was a lord's son. The Lord of Eastgreen's, to be precise. His name was Ser Danton, and he died in the Up-And-Downs.”

“Oh,” said Maple, and she averted her eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Wouldn't you want to know?” asked Anna, blinking.

“No, it's not that, it's just... I've often wondered who my father was, and I never knew either of my parents, but I don't think it changes anything _to_ know. It's as like they never really existed for how it turned out. I have Grandmama. And... and friends.” She played with her teacup saucer, rotating the cup in the little depression created by the plate. Porcelain scraped against porcelain with a dull, constant noise.

“Friends?” repeated Anna without thinking.

“You know,” said Maple, her face suddenly red. “You.” Maple shook her head and continued in a much louder volume, “So why are you telling me this? Something tells me it's not just because you wanted me to know that I'm the bastard child of a lord's son.”

“Right,” said Anna with a nod. “In fact, it's because of the lord. Lord Linnaeus has – _had_ – no blood heirs. On his death, the properties of Eastgreen go to a countess in Weselton, one by the name of Lady Lyla. And with Arendelle in the state that it is in...” Anna shook her head. “The point is, Eastgreen needs a Linnaeus, one whose fealty is sworn to Arendelle. And you are a direct descendant of House Linnaeus. And I know this because...”

Anna removed the gauntlet on her left hand. She lifted her hand, blue ring held aloft, and, in a trembling voice, said, “I know this because I have your mother's ring.”

Maple gasped audibly. Her hands, which had been cradling the teacup and saucer, shook so violently that the cup fell from her grip to shatter against the floor in a splash of tea.

“No... it can't be... is it?” she whispered, eyes wide with wonder.

“It is,” said Anna unsteadily. “Your mother's ring. Syr – your grandmother confirmed it and your parentage for me. So I've come to return it to you, and to make one other request, if you will hear it.”

Maple swallowed her astonishment and nodded slowly. “I will.”

Anna leaned across the table, lowering her voice to speak only a shade above a whisper. “The current Lord Linnaeus died last night. I watched him die. He was the victim of an assassination, and such was the manner of the attack that I fear Eastgreen will soon see the flames of war. I thought it hopeless until I knew that a living descendant of the Linnaeus line yet lived. Do you see, now?  _You_ are the last Linnaeus. Though you are a bastard, much, I assume, like myself, your blood is unmistakably the blood of the family, and it is the queen's privilege to legitimize bastards. I am confident I can acquire Queen Elsa's help in this matter, so that only leaves you. It is a lot to ask of anyone, I know, and a part of me regrets to put this upon you – but you needn't face it alone! I will help you; that is, if you will accept this burden.”

When she was finished, Anna leaned back slightly, a faint trickle of sweat beading her brow. She did not know where the words came from – it was almost, even strangely as though something had spoken to her from beyond a veil, and gave her the clarity and the insight to see the situation as it was. Yes, the memories were beginning to surface like blocks of ice in a vast floe. Memories of men in shadows speaking of the fate of Eastgreen; memories of assassins wearing the badge of Weselton on their chests. And visions, too: visions of an Eastgreen consumed by war. And even as these thoughts filled her mind, she knew that Maple was the key. The schemers and shadows would not be availed, and no war would have to come and raze the home of that kindly man who offered her a pot of tea; and the city of Eastport, quiet and peaceful by the sea, would not know of the strife that raged in the world beyond. For a brief and hopeful moment, a peaceful world seemed possible, and Anna lunged upon it.

_And_ , she added from a wry-smiling corner of her secret heart,  _the_ queen _will surely approve._

Maple was quiet for a long time. Her eyes dropped to the table and the floor below it, where the smashed remains of her tea cup lie among puddles of swift-cooling tea. Slowly, she stood, and walked to the corner of the room, where Anna saw a low box tucked away beneath a pile of messily-folded quilts. Maple displaced the quilts and, trembling, unlatched the box's lid and, lifting it up, stared inside.

“Come over here,” she said in a small voice.

Anna stood and, taking careful steps, walked to stand behind Maple. She leaned forward and looked into the box.

It was filled with rings.

Hundreds, perhaps thousands of them, all differently shaped and sized, though they had one thing in common – the color blue. Some were bands of blue, clearly lapis lazuli, and others were bands of silver and gold inset with sapphires or bluish opal stones. It was a small fortune in jewelry, one that might be acquired, Anna realized at once, from years and years of searching for a small, blue ring.

“These are all the other rings that I paid the Thieves' Guild to... find for me,” said Maple quietly. “Thousands of them. I lost count long ago. Some are magical, though a lesser magic – the trace of magic only. And none were my mother's ring. For _years_ I searched, and though I thought that it may be in the hands of some lord or lady, the many thieveries of the guild never turned it up. And now I find it was, all this time, in the Up-And-Downs; and, since then, in the hands of my best and only friend...?”

Maple stood and turned around, standing very close to Anna as she did. She took a step forward and, hesitating, gazed into Anna's eyes with her own watery, emerald orbs.

“Now that same friend wishes to lift me to the title of Lady, to restore to me a birthright I never knew I had. All my life I thought myself an unfortunate accident, something that only replaced that which was good in the world with that which was average. But now, for the first time, I think that might not be true. And I have you to thank for that.”

Anna's heart was pounding now. Maple was definitely close, and Anna could smell tea leaves and earth on the young witch like she was, herself, in a dense and loamy field of tea plants. Her eyes were watering, and huge.

“I think this is destiny,” Maple whispered. “Serendipity. I felt for a while that I... I liked you... but now I think it was _meant_ to be. And something tells me you feel the same way.”

At this, Anna's mind stopped. Maple was very close, and Anna was frozen. She gained control and took a hasty and awkward step backwards, followed by another and another.

“What are you saying?” said Anna.

“I'm saying that I... I think I'm in love with you, Anna. And I think we were meant to be together.”

Maple smiled so broadly that it struck through Anna's heart like an arrow-point.

“No... No... Maple... I don't...”

Maple blinked and her face fell, a hint of desperation filled her voice, and she practically squeaked. “Didn't... Didn't you say that you would help me? You... You said that I needn't face this alone. Of course you will come with me to Eastport... won't you?”

Of course Anna could not do that. She had other duties, them as yet incomplete, and before she could stop herself, she said, “No... I can't. The queen...”

Those few syllables seemed to say it all, and the way Maple's face rippled in hurt, confusion, and sudden comprehension twisted the point in Anna's heart. Instinctively, Anna reached out, but Maple did not respond. Her hands clenched into tiny fists, she whispered so hoarsely that Anna had to strain to hear.

“The queen, then?” said Maple. “You… and her?”

Anna nodded stupidly.

“You're just a knight, you know,” Maple whispered, eyes narrowed, their normally bright green color replaced by blackened charcoal disks, disbelief and betrayal and hurt and loss swirling in blackened whirlpools. “And she's a queen. That's probably it, isn't it? She's a queen and I'm just a stupid witch.”

Anna could feel her outstretched hand trembling, almost out of control. “Maple…” she croaked.

“You can go,” said Maple quietly. She blinked, and in the next moment she was shouting, tears streaming down her face full-force. “I said _GO! GO AWAY! LEAVE!_ ”

Dumbstruck, Anna backed away for the door, scrambling at the handle with her hands. Maple's face was seething with an unearthly terror. The door opened by itself, and as Anna turned to go through, she felt a force like a gust of wind push her out bodily.

She stood in the deserted alley, feeling almost as empty as the world around her.

The blue ring was still on her hand, she noticed. She slipped it off and placed it on the top step before the cottage door, and replaced her gauntlets. A cruel gust filled the alley, and Anna left it in a hurry.

She had put it behind her several hundred steps before she stopped, and the encounter repeated itself in her head. Maple had told her she loved her – in _that_ way. And Anna did not know how she was supposed to react. She wasn't even sure that how she did was right. She went to Maple's to secure an heir for Eastgreen and to return her ring, but it ended in disappointment and failure, and, deep within, her mind percolated with the abject despair that she had lost a friend.

And another part of it bubbled in annoyance, even anger that Maple had chosen then and there to spring her feelings and to react the way she did. No answer had been clear, and nothing had seemed right to do. What did Maple expect? What had Anna done wrong?

Except, of course – it  _would_ have been a lot easier if she just loved Maple, too. But her own feelings for the queen, such as they were, interposed themselves as an obstacle to that. She was filled with a sense of foreboding as she wondered if this was but a prelude to all else that her feelings would destroy.

Perhaps Maple would come around in time. Perhaps, or... not. Regardless of how she felt about Anna, however, she was still the blood of Linnaeus, and, to that end, a rightful heiress to the title Lady Paramount of Eastgreen. Perhaps the queen would handle it better.

Yes, the queen.

She did not know when her feet started moving again, nor the looks on the faces of anyone in the castle, but the queen's solar door stood before her, now. She had much to say to the queen, of the fifth shard, and the assassination, and the hopeful heiress in Maple. No matter how Anna had messed things up, this was what the queen was born and raised for. She would put the matter in her hands, and follow where she went.

And she would stay silent doing it.

Knock, knock, knock.

No answer.

She imagined the queen must be in her room. She pushed the solar door open, just to be sure – but there was nobody in the solar. The hearth was cold.

Anna closed the door carefully and backed away, climbing the spiral stairs for the top floor of the Queen's Tower.

There were three rooms up here, arranged circularly around the top of the stair. Only one of them was the queen's room, the others long-since abandoned or useless. Anna realized she had never quite been up here before, but – no, that didn't seem right. Strangely, it seemed almost second nature for her to cross the hallway and knock on Elsa's door.

A soft, sweet voice bid her enter.

The queen’s room, by light of the sun, was now recognizable as well-ordered and clean. The blue bed with the thick canopy, the carefully arranged candles and jewel-boxes on the cabinets, the vanity, the desk that sat before a shelf stuffed with books. Ah, the desk – it was the one part of Elsa’s room that did not seem meticulous. It was piled high with papers and spent quills, and musty old tomes stacked haphazardly on one another. It was a nice desk of sturdy-looking material and finely-crafted wood, and sat just by the side of the window, so that it caught the light of day but not the glare of the sun.

And the queen was sitting at it, turned in her chair with one eyebrow lifted to greet her visitor.

Anna approached and felt a chill wind as she realized, almost startled, that the window was open wide. It was cold in the room – too cold, by far, for comfort. And the fireplace was not burning. There were no logs in it, nor any stains or soot marks. And it was very cold.

The queen stood out of her chair just as Anna went to her knee.

“Your Grace,” said Anna in a sepulchral tone. She kept her eyes and face low and tried not to think of anything. “I come bearing the fifth shard, and troubling news from the east – ”

“No, stop that,” said the queen sharply.

Anna looked up in spite of herself. “I’m… sorry?”

“Stand,” commanded the queen, her eyes sharp.

Unsure, Anna stood. The queen, who wore an azure blue dress, fine and closely cut and worn over by a short matching jacket, crossed the room in a few powerful strides.

She fixed her gaze on Anna's midsection and her features softened and fell. With a faint gasp, she extended a trembling hand. “You're injured,” she said blankly.

“A little,” said Anna, nervously. She felt the weight of Elsa's gaze and shifted. “Just a few scratches from fighting. Nothing unusual.”

“Nothing unusual,” repeated the queen. She stepped forward again so that she stood half an arm's length now from Anna, and continued still to look at the wound, the scar. The cold light from the window spilled around her like an aura, and played the edges of her platinum hair. Loose strands of hair stood out against the light like blades of silver grass suspended in a moonlit pool.

“Your bun,” said Anna suddenly. “It's... there are...”

Elsa's eyes snapped up to meet Anna's suddenly. “Are you okay?” asked Anna.

“It's been a long day,” said Elsa quietly. “I did not expect you back, and I... I was worried.”

“Worried?” said Anna. “About what?”

“You,” said Elsa, and her eyes again went to Anna's torn tunic.

“This is nothing,” said Anna. “Really. I have spare tunics.” She attempted a smile.

Elsa shook her head. “No. It's... I... I had a dream last night. I dreamt that you were injured, hurt. Very badly. And it shook me, but a dream is only a dream, isn't it? Still, it shook me – and then you return like this... it all seems too horrible, to terrible to be real.”

“It's nothing,” Anna insisted. “It was worse yesterday.”

Elsa frowned at that. She took another tentative step forward, and a gloved hand reached out as Elsa pressed the backs of her fingers against Anna's midriff. In smooth, short strokes, she began to brush the scar with a gentle touch. Anna's heart-rate quickened, but words failed her.

“It was worse,” the queen repeated, her voice cavernous. “Worse.”

She pulled her hand back and a thick silence settled. Anna reached for her pouch and spilled the fifth shard into her hand clumsily. She held it out. “I'm fine,” she said. “Look, here's the fifth shard. One more, right?”

Elsa's eyes darted to it for half a moment before she closed her fingers protectively around the shard. She was clearly not focused on it, and she turned gracefully and walked across the room to stand before the open window sill. She leaned on it, against the draft that Anna was sure was bone deep. Instinctively, Anna moved forward, wanting to offer some comfort but not knowing how.

“You are not fine,” said Elsa, her voice oddly intense. “I just realized. My dream did not _come_ true, it was _always_ true. You have always returned hurt and wounded in one way or another, every time bearing the same thing. Again and again you visit death's doorstep and come closer and closer to passing through the threshold. How can you stand it?”

“It is my duty,” replied Anna. “Aren't you cold?”

“Duty you must needs pay for with pain and loss?”

“It's worth it,” said Anna without thinking.

“ _Worth it?_ ” repeated Elsa incredulously. She spun around, clearly distressed, and all but gaped at Anna. “How can it be worth it? What am I to you, but a... a... a careless, distant monarch? How do you not _hate me?_ ”

Anna blinked in confusion. What kind of question was that? Did Elsa really think Anna could ever hate her? Of course it was absurd. The thought had never even crossed her mind.

“Why would I?” asked Anna. “Why would I hate you? You have given me everything. I was only a peasant girl from the forest before you lifted me up. It is a small thing for me to repay you by helping the realm.”

Elsa blinked, her face hardening momentarily. “You do all of this for the realm?”

“No,” said Anna. “I do it for you.”

“But _why?_ What worth are all the titles in the world if they mean your life? Were it not for me, you would never have received...” she gestured half-heartedly to Anna's wounds, “and, for all we know, you would be much the better off. Why?” She stepped towards Anna, her deep, blue eyes now resonating with a strange focus. “Why do you keep coming back to me?”

The question rang against the hollows of Anna's ears like echoes down a long, winding corridor. Why had Anna come to the queen's chambers? The reasons seemed distant and inaccessible now. Vaguely she could recall the thin details of death and war and magic, but like faces long-forgotten, they stood out as no more than outlines. But there could be no doubt: the reason she kept coming back was standing in front of her, perfect as ever.

“Because I love you,” said Anna.

“...What?” breathed Elsa.

The words had escaped her lips before she knew she said them, and now they stood and spread like butterflies between Anna and the queen. Anna's heart raced, and hot shame consumed her – but Elsa's reaction was as stone. If any special thoughts ran beneath that marble surface, they were well and truly concealed. Briefly, terribly, she thought,  _this is it. You have betrayed the queen's trust and spoken above your station. After all that has been put upon her, upon_ you _, why have you ruined it so?_

She thought of Maple, and the schism that occurred there not minutes ago. No, at no costs could Anna allow that to happen. Whatever she would have to do, the queen had to know this changed _nothing:_ Anna was still her woman, her knight, through and through.

“Please forgive me,” she said in a trembling, broken voice. “But I am in love with you, and, well, I did not know at first whether it was so, but there was an ice shield, and it, well, a spirit said that it reflected whatever was in my heart, and at first it was rather scary but then it was comforting and I saw your face, and it, the spirit that is, said that it was because I was in love – and, well, I don't think I understood, but whenever I see you I just want to hold you and help you, I mean there's so much in you to admire, not to say that there's a lot of you, just that I admire you a lot, and you are really amazingly beautiful, and I don't care about fighting if it helps you, because it's the only thing I'm good at, and really I do just want to help you and stand by your side, and...”

Her mouth snapped shut as she realized that she had spoken in an unintelligible string of gibberish. Her vision blurred with embarrassed tears and she could feel a fever heat rise in her cheeks. She had made a right proper fool of herself, now. Had her answer even made sense? No, of course not. Whatever punishment awaited her and her foolishness, she would welcome it.

She could not make out Elsa's expression, such was her panic and her embarrassment, and she knew now that she was standing very close to her. She moved back. “And… I’m sorry, I’ll just…”

But her step was arrested, stilled, and she found she couldn’t pull away. She twisted her head and broke eye contact, tears still stinging her eyes, but she could not pull away. Anna felt arms, strong and slender, snake around her back. All emotions were a jumble now. Mouth open in dumb protest, she tried to say something, anything, to apologize, to weep, to promise, but couldn’t. She looked up again just as the queen’s gloved hand cradled the back of her neck and pulled her close.

Their bodies pressed flush together, and Anna’s every muscle trembled at an excited rate. Quivering, she marveled at how she managed to stay standing, but, of course, it was because she was in the queen’s arms. In Elsa’s arms.

And those soft pale lips were pressed against her own.

It was slow at first, but every moment of contact was a bolt of lightning, spiraling through Anna with frenzied jumps. _What’s happening?_ she thought with stark wonderment. Her eyes, suddenly clear, were filled with Elsa’s face, and she could count – _count_ – the pale freckles like distant stars. The powerful smell of lavender and winter overcame her. She let her lids flutter closed, and surrendered to the invisible visual tremolo that replaced reality.

The queen was kissing her.

Slowly, the muscles in Anna’s mouth began to respond, to move and work, and she tried to kiss back. She did not know how – did not understand the logic at hand – she had no training – this was not swordplay or archery – she was out of her depth – but no, there was no shame here. The strong and caring feeling of Elsa’s arms and the tender sweetness of her lips swept the shame away like a tidal wave clears the beach, replacing all that lay there before with flotsam and _things_ , of new things, new things to try and to marvel at – without shame or worry, an infinite bounty to be beheld, to be treasured together.

Elsa lead the dance in the wake of the tidal wave like a nymph of ocean spray, and Anna, on the edge of this boundless frontier, gave in and clung to her queen’s leadership, a silent plea of _“teach me”_ bolting between their lips. Elsa caught Anna’s lower lip in a soft, tight squeeze, and Anna’s knees wobbled. She leaned into her queen and draped her arms over shoulders covered by azure velvet cloth. One by one the static jolts built up, rushing through her body with blind, unfeeling heat, until…

A frigid shock burst through her with such sudden force that she barely had time to gasp. The sound of cracking ice, a sharp and thundering, piercing cry, and already she was airborne, hurtling, and – falling, down, on the ground. Her breath came in ragged leaps, her hearing shot through with a dull, persistent whine, and groggily the shapes in her vision resolved into images once more.

There was snow. It was snowing in Elsa’s room, and Elsa – she was backing away, her eyes wide. The terror in them ripped through Anna like sheer cold. A pattern of ice sprinted across the wall that Elsa leaned against, in all directions, ensconcing the nearby all nearby in stacking patterns of frost, little frozen fractals that played across the air itself. Disrupted papers and fluttering books danced on the wind like drifts of snow in between the falling specks of white.

Words did not come. Anna did not know where to begin thinking. “Elsa…?”

“Oh my gods,” moaned Elsa. “What… What have I…?”

Anna looked down at herself. She was coated in snow, parts of her tunic chipped with ice and crusted with frost. She drew in a breath that caught and erupted out again in the form of a shuddering cough. On her raised gauntlets, she made out the faint splatter of red blood.

Nothing else was said. Elsa moved like a nighttime shadow before the beams of morning, slipping out of sight, dashing for the door.

Anna screamed her dismay. “ELSA!” she shouted. “Come back!” But she was already gone, out between the doors. Anna made to move, but her legs did not respond. They, and all the rest of her body, shivered in such an inhuman coldness that Anna wondered that she had ever once been warm. Again and again, she tried to move, but the weakness had seeped into her soul, and all she could do was lie and whimper silently to the empty room.

She did not sleep. The chattering of her teeth had long ceased its din, but she lay in abject and waking chill on the floor. Shortly, or perhaps after much time, warmth returned to her limbs. Against an avalanche of pain, Anna stood, hands scrabbling at the nearby bedposts for purchase.

Breathing heavily, she stood in the crawling twilight of Elsa’s bedroom. Falling snowflakes outside cast invisible shadows on the ice-stained rushes. She walked for the exit, slowly as she could manage, her entire mind consumed by only one thought: _Fire._

Down the steep, narrow steps she went, emerging at last in the queen’s solar. The hearth was cold. Helplessly, Anna crouched before it, and stared forlornly at the inert logs within. They awaited a flame, but there was none there.

“Use your magic,” murmured the wisp.

Anna nearly gasped in alarm, surprised by the speaking spirit. She clutched at her chest, and slowly drew the bottle out. The flame was dimmer than usual.

“Go on,” it murmured. “Use your magic. It won’t explode.”

Dumbly, Anna dropped the bottle so that it dangle limply at her chest. She found one of her sigil pieces and placed it in the hearth, though her fingers were stiff and clumsy and it was all she could do to move without trembling.

“Say the word, now.”

“Bombos,” said Anna hoarsely.

The chunk did not explode, though for an instant Anna tensed in anticipation. Instead, it started smoking, slowly at first, and then a flame lit on its surface. It crawled around the bark and grew, casting spare embers into the air above. Anna stared as the fire spread, and soon the hearth burned hotly. She was very close, closer than should be comfortable, but she still felt cold.

Anna breathed a sigh of relief. It felt better. She sank fully to her knees and leaned against the side of the hearth, eyes closing in weariness, the crackling of the fire threatening to lure her to sleep.

She heard voices. They echoed across the blurry darkness of her mind before stopping to ripple and fall apart. Like stones skipping across a placid lake, the words pattered against Anna’s consciousness.

“He wants to see her. Demands it, says it’s his right.”

“It is, but this is more important.”

“He won’t understand that!”

“He _will_ , but perhaps he won’t care… you _must_ keep him at bay. Tell him… tell him that she’s ordered him to see the queen.”

“That won’t work – ”

“Not for _long_ , it won’t, but I won’t need long. Just to keep him at bay. Now, go! Tell him!”

The patter of footsteps against stone bricks. Out of the gloom, revealed by the light of the shifting flames, Hans’s face came into view.

“By the gods,” he said, his voice now full and clear in Anna’s ears. “You’re awake?”

Anna sat up, slowly, breathing with the caution of a one who doesn’t know whether her next breath will be her last. “I think so,” she whispered hoarsely. She eked out a cough to clear her throat, and rose to her feet.

Hans shot his hands out to steady her, and she stood again in Elsa’s solar, many, many hours after the kiss by the sky’s reckoning. It was dark outside and the flame had burnt down to sticks and cinders.

The image took shape as she stood in silence. It was one moment, one moment of bliss, one moment wherein she held the Earth in its warmth; and the next where it had flung away in a stinging, icy blast.

And yet the memory refused to coalesce. Whenever she thought about it, she stopped cold, and her mind reeled like it had been put to an impossible problem. She grimaced as a stab of pain throbbed against the back of her eyes.

Anna met Hans’s gaze. His brow was creased with interest, lowered slightly. It seemed sympathetic, worrying even, and yet there was a hunger there, growling behind the irises which, by the low and fleeting light, seemed strangely colorless.

“What happened?” she asked him, unable to keep the note of apprehension, the twist of fear from her trembling, tepid voice. Her sanity held the dam against the raging tide of uncertainty that threatened yet to drown her. She had to know, first. Before she was taken by the waves. “What happened?” she asked again.

Hans stared for a cold and lingering moment. “How much do you remember?”

Anna wavered and thought again, trying against everything to recall what happened. “I was bringing the fifth piece to the queen,” she said dully. “And then, I think that I… We…” _We_ , she thought. _She kissed me._

The thought sat in her head like a heavy weight, a huge and unwieldy statue. It blotted all other things from her mind and she stood in quick-breathing silence against the starkness of its existence. There was no denying it – it’s what she remembered. The smell, the taste, the feel. Heat pooled in her just at the memory of it.

“We kissed,” she said finally.

Hans nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “Anything else?” he said.

Anna shook her head and said, “No. Only… only cold.”

Hans sighed and drew back, rubbing his temples with a sullen air. The atmosphere in the room seemed to grow dark and heavy. The fire crackled low and feeble against the blue of the room. Hans looked down into the hearth for an interminable moment, his strange eyes reflecting the floating embers.

“There is a great evil upon us, you and I, Ser Anna,” he said at last. “As we speak it threatens us now where we live, where we think ourselves safest… The full truth will become apparent to you in time, but hear what I say now with all urgency: You have been attacked by the same force that has conjured this storm. And there is only one way to quell it for good. You must find the final piece of the Golden Power.”

Anna looked down. The task seemed enormous, even given that she had done the same thing five times before. But she felt weak, now, weak in a way she had never known before. She wondered if she could even do it; but she knew that she must. She knew she had no choice.

“I will do it,” she said, “I must do it.”

“You will find the last piece on the North Mountain,” said Hans in a low voice. “You must make haste. The queen says you must leave _tonight._ ”

Anna nodded, and repeated, “The North Mountain. I leave tonight.”

She returned to her quarters, every step she took improving her strength, if not in fact but through hope. She undressed and dressed quickly, though her limbs were stiff and her fingers clumsy. She had to leave tonight. Some part of her knew that much depended on it, on her, and the fear she felt for her queen only spurred her on.

The castle was deathly quiet as she passed through it. No guards acknowledged her with more than the faintest of nods. Epona, of course, was missing. She found another horse and mounted it uneasily. It did not speak to her as Epona did, and Anna did not care for it, either – but she had a destination and she rode out the castle gates with haste into the frigid air of the city at night.

All was quiet on streets deserted and lit only by the lights of lamps in windows. The snow was falling heavily and the ground, which had just that morning seen only dusting, was once again covered in a thick blanket of snow. A spirit of desolation had settled over the city, and beneath the eaves none dared to speak or move outside of themselves. Anna’s mortal fibers trembled by the weight she now felt, one that stretched her to the limit and bore down on her with an inexplicable feeling of impending doom.

The edge of the city was close when a shape moved out of the darkness.

Anna reared her horse in surprise and stared, blinking. It was a man – a tall fellow, somewhat thin by the looks of it, although it was hard to tell by the billowy cloak he wore.

But when he spoke, his voice was Martin’s – yes, indeed, it was Martin, wearing a cloak.

Puzzled, though wanting to laugh in sheer surprise, Anna gave a blank stare that was halfway to amused.

“Ser Anna,” he said, and cleared his throat. In recent months his voice had been dropping somewhat. It had a tendency to crack, like Kristoff’s sometimes used to, and it unnerved Anna slightly, but it did not crack now, and it was clear Martin spoke with urgency. “I tried to speak with you before, in the castle, but I was prevented.”

“Prevented?” repeated Anna.

“Yes,” said Martin darkly. “Even though my need to see you is urgent, Lord Myles took a sudden interest in the maintenance of the guard, and sent me to go see the queen. So I came out here. I am glad I found you… Why are you leaving? You have only just returned, and there are ill tidings abound…”

“Ill tidings?” repeated Anna, and realized how foolish she sounded. She shook the dust out of her head and peered at Martin once more. “Pardon me, Martin, I’m not myself at present.”

Martin tilted his head. “No, I can see that… are you well, ser?”

“Never mind that,” said Anna, not wanting to answer the question. “Please, Martin, quickly tell me your peace.”

Martin nodded unsurely, and for a moment, he was the young boy from Burrowstown again. But his expression darkened and acquired an edge, one honed by months of leal servitude. He spoke rapidly. “Something is awry in Burrowstown, at the meeting meant for the vassals. Don’t ask me how I can be sure, but I know it is true. I have spoken to the men about it, but, ser – it is much to explain, you _cannot_ leave Crystalwater now. I mistrust Ser Tazmus, and you should hear the way Lord Myles speaks in court. Please! Between the two of us, we may be able to forestall whatever it is they’re planning. I have Ser Wendel and Ser Puck on my side, too. Stay in Crystalwater, dismiss Ser Tazmus, and with the Royal Guard and Ser Puck’s men and the City Watch, we can be ready for – for whatever it is that’s coming.”

Finally he stopped speaking, though he stared at Anna with bright eyes that burned like amber. Anna's skin crawled with the truth in what he was saying. It could make all the difference if she stayed. But she knew she could not. She had her orders.

_The North Mountain._

“Martin,” she began slowly, “I cannot stay.”

Whether it was disbelief or confusion of anger that crossed his face, Anna couldn’t say, but Martin gaped and said in a voice that really cracked, “But _ser_ , why _not?”_

“My orders are to go,” she said. “It is… for the good of the realm, and mayhap the world. I cannot stay, even for the nonce. I will return in a fortnight… and, hopefully, all this will change. For the better.”

Even saying it, she was not sure she believed it anymore. Too much was unaccounted for, and her faith was soured on many a front, and murky on the others.

Martin saw through her at once. His eyes darkened, not with furor, but with disappointment. He looked her full in the face, and said, whispering on the wind, “Your hair, ser. What happened to it?”

Nonplussed, Anna looked at her braid, and she saw it. A long, white streak that ran down its length, intertwined in the rich copper her hair normally was. From root to tip it went, white as fresh-fallen snow.

“I don’t know,” said Anna honestly.

They sat in silence, and Anna’s horse snorted impatiently against the bitter cold. Martin drew his cloak around his shoulders and said in a low, hoarse voice: “Please hurry back. I will do what I can in your absence. I... I trust you will do what is right.” With that, he turned to walk away.

“Wait,” called Anna softly.

Martin turned back and lifted his eyebrows.

“Whatever happens, look after Maple. Make sure she's safe.” A gust of wind whipped her cloak around her. “I can't explain now. Just... make sure she's safe.”

For a moment, Martin only stared. Then, he nodded and vanished into the shadows between two buildings.

Alone with her thoughts once more, Anna heeled her horse and continued for the city gates, trying her best to suppress the growing feeling of regret. Beyond the city gates, the Springway lie long and whole and cut its path to the foot of the North Mountain. It seemed forever ago that Anna would have relished the idea of climbing that mountain, but now it was nowhere in her mind.

And Martin's warnings weighed heavily on her as well. A day that had started with so much promise ended now with her alone on the road again, and not even Epona to keep her company. And yet she went forward. The promise of today had proved empty, but the promise of tomorrow remained – dim, but present. What exactly tomorrow contained, she didn't know. But she knew what kept her going. She wanted to see her smile. She wanted to be wrapped in those strong, slender arms. She wanted to feel the gentle zephyrs of her breath glide across her forehead.

She wanted Elsa to kiss her again.

 


	21. The North Mountain

 The landscape itself rose out of the horizon and climbed into the blank and endless sky, carving a path through blue and white streaks tinted with the colors of the setting sun. The west face of the mountain caught the orange and the east face sat in black shadow. Its peak was snow-capped and hidden among the clouds.

From afar, the mountain did not seem so large. It was very clearly _big_ , but only in general terms, which Anna could not really truly understand. She saw it from tree-tops and high hills but that was nothing to standing at its foot, if it was its foot she stood at now. But the mountain had no definite foot. There was no point where it begun exactly. The ground only started to rise, to turn upwards.

It was on this slope that Anna found herself when the sun was setting a week after leaving Crystalwater. Whether this was the mountain proper or the surrounding highlands, Anna could not say for sure, but in any case the path grew twisty now and descended often into thickets and snaked around the swells of modest hummocks. Here, civilization was rare, and though sometimes she saw floating wisps of smoke in the distance, the touch of man in these parts seemed so unknown but for the old and beaten path and the vague sense that this road was once oft-traveled and now forgotten.

July was nearing its end, and at the height of day it was warm but the nights were bone-cold. All cold felt colder now; and all heat felt feebler. Though the sun tried, Anna could not shake the damp, unwell chill that settled over her at all times, and at night often curled up in her roll shivering.

She was also plagued by doubts and regrets. Daily she repeated to herself that she was doing the right thing, that she, just one woman, and the queen’s own knight, could only do what she was asked, as was her station and her duty, and this was the right thing. The thought carried her through the days, but as time wore on, less and less she believed its truth.

The wisp, too, seemed unwell, less vivacious than it had been. It was something she had noted before, though not thought much of. At first, hardly any time went by where it did not feel the need to comment on everything and to complain constantly, but now it did not speak except to sigh or mumble incoherently, and so faintly at that it was lost in the sighing of the wind.

“I bet we'll have to set up camp before nightfall,” said Anna. “The mountain's bigger than I thought. It will take maybe a full day's hike to climb it, so we'll get started early tomorrow morning.”

The wisp said nothing and the horse only kept trotting, so Anna nodded to herself and began whistling. It was a short and tuneless song, only whistled to help keep lonely thoughts at bay.

The light streamed through the gaps of evergreen needles as Anna descended a small rise. It was windy and the ground crunched beneath her horse's hooves, and the nigh-forest light was mystical and soft-spoken. The path leveled off and shot straight ahead like an arrow, at the end of which a fork seemed to appear with a sign marking the spot.

Curiosity overcoming her, she spurred her horse into a gait and made upon the sign not a minute later. Two pointed slats indicated each fork. The right fork said, _The Ice Fields_ ; and the left fork said, _The Haunted Trading Post._

Anna's heart skipped a beat. Could it be?

With night upon her, Anna could little afford to wait and ponder on the open road, though trepidation came over her at the sight and the remembering of the trading post. It was years and years ago when Oaken first talked of it, and since it had become a reality, Anna realized she had never had the chance to visit. It was Anders’s and Oaken's new home, too. And though she knew they would welcome her if she came knocking, still she hesitated:she would not want to impose.

And yet, in her heart she ached to see them again. To hear Oaken's _hoo-hoo_ and listen to Anders wax on about the matters of the day. And since the matter in Burrowstown, there was a good chance that Kristoff was with them, too.

That settled it. For the chance of seeing Kristoff, if nothing else. She needed someone to talk to. She put her heels into her horse and drove quickly down the left fork path. The path dipped a bit and passed some nasty brambles, and then sank even further beneath a close-knit thicket of trees. Pines arched overhead like the buttresses of a majestic hallway, and the trunks of trees stood like columns in some great and ancient temple. The path crossed a stream and then rose again with a final swell that seemed steeper than the ones she encountered previous. The path turned sharply at a tall evergreen, and brought her through a clearing where a single log cabin stood on an upraised section of ground.

There was no doubting it, not from the way the cabin reminded her of Oaken and Anders's old home, nor from the sign nailed above the door that said “The Haunted Trading Post.”

It was a considerable cabin, not enormous but comfortably sized. It was only one story, perhaps two with a slanted roof to keep off the snow. Tucked in next to it was another smaller structure with a wide, tall door, probably, Anna guessed, for stabling.

She drove up to the porch and dismounted her horse gingerly, and froze at the bottom of the three small steps that led to the door. It had been almost a year. What would she say? She was overthinking it, she knew. There was no cause to be timid. Anders and Oaken had always been welcoming like no one else was.

Shortly after she had knocked on the door, the sounds of footsteps within preceded the appearance of the big man through the threshold. Yes, his mustache was fully in evidence, now. It was a great furred thing, like a spun ginger scarf that fluffed down one side of his face, wound over the upper lip, and trailed back up his face on the other side. He was wearing a great green sweater with patterns of reindeer knitted in, and on his head was a small red-and-green cap.

But the smile he wore – ah, the smile – was painted on. Anna knew instinctively it was not one of his true smiles. It was a nervous, almost cautious smile, a salesman’s smile but overcast by a malignant worry. And surely as it was a mask, it fell and faded away when he cast his eyes on the young woman who stood on his porch.

Whatever emotions the big man felt in his turbulent stomach might have been mirrored tenfold by Anna, who looked up at Oaken with a sudden onset of tremendous weariness.

“Hi, Oaken,” she said.

“Anna.”

She almost felt pulled into the ensuing hug, and was led into a wide room, walls lined with goods. The length of the room ran to a small hooded alcove with shelves and shelves of jarred preserves, some stacked on top of others. A variety of the goods Anna had seen in Oaken’s occasional trading stalls before were all the amenities available here, now, though in such exceptional quantity that Anna was speechless. Of course, Oaken always had a thing for knickknacks, and also a thing for trading. She wondered how much business he realistically got.

“Business has been good,” he said flatly, noting the way she looked around the room.

“Really?” said Anna. “Good. That’s good.”

A door leading deeper into the cabin opened and Anders stepped through, dressed in a plain woolen flannel tunic and matching breeches. He was still the handsome, comely man that she remembered, though now his once-perfect eyes were underscored by purple bags, and his complexion was a little grayer than she remembered.

“Oh my gods, Anna. This is so unexpe- let me fix you some tea.”

Oaken agreed and led Anna to the other side of the room. A tall counter separated half of the room from the other, where a few pots and pans and a half-filled water basin occupied shelves and wall-space. Beneath one of the shelves, a beaten old trunk was open and filled with ratty old rags and worn cloaks, all doubtless in need of a good washing. A burning fireplace was crackling in front of two soft chairs, and Anna felt déjà vu as Anders provided a cup of tea while she sat.

For a while, they all sat in silence before the fire. Oaken brought out a third chair and sat in it and they all observed the jumping flames.

She looked at the two of them. It was unusual for there to be any silence in the company of Oaken and Anders, but she seemed to know this was an unusual night for the two of them, and she doubted she had helped matters by her arrival. She stared, unspeaking, as she strove to think of something to say.

An easy smile from Anders cut away her apprehension. “We’ve heard a lot about you, Anna.”

“Ser Anna,” injected Oaken.

“Just Anna,” said Anna, feeling a little pink in the cheeks, “to you guys.”

“Or the Giantslayer,” said Oaken.

“Or the Green Devil,” said Anders.

“The Flower Knight.”

“The Lady Protector.”

“Krakenkiller.”

“Barrow-dweller.”

“The Champion of the Golden Crocus,” said Oaken, and they paused.

“I like that one best,” commented Anders. “It’s garish, but poetic.”

They both looked at her, and the way they both cracked grins made Anna sure she was blushing fiercely. Her response was strangled and became a squeak, and they laughed uproariously.

She turned her gaze to her cup of tea and closely investigated the way the surface of the tea made ripples in her trembling hands. A firm hand landed on her shoulder and patted it gently. She looked back up and met Anders’s smiling eyes.

“We’re only teasing you,” he said kindly. He drew his hand back. “We never would have thought that the little wild girl Kristoff brought back from the forest would turn into the youngest knight in the kingdom.”

“And most famousest,” added Oaken. “And a woman, at that.”

“High time for that,” said Anders, rolling his eyes. He leaned back in his chair and sipped from his cup of tea. “If you believe half of what they say about the Valkyrie. It makes you wonder where all these women warriors were hiding for the past three-hundred years.”

“Probably moving to the Barrowings, _ja,_ ” said Oaken.

“More like, they didn’t know they could be warriors,” said Anders. “I never doubted it for a second.”

“Look at your sister, _ja?_ ” chuckled Oaken.

“She was always the terror around the fort,” said Anders solemnly. “I told you what my da used to say to her? Told her she was the next Freydís Eiríksdóttir. That was the beginning of the end.”

Oaken laughed heartily. “ _Hoo-hoo_ , you didn’t tell me that.”

Smiling, Anders continued, “For months afterwards, she kept trying to sneak off the island on rafts. Said she was going to Vinland, going to find Aztlan. Da tried to scare her off it by saying the Aztecs drank blood and wore human skulls as clothing. But Astrid said, and I remember this very clearly, she said ‘It sounds like they’re more Viking than Vikings.’ And from then on she said nuts to the Vikings, she’d be the first Skræling princess, and she’d drink the blood of anyone who disagreed.”

They both laughed long, and Anna felt warmed by the sound. Nothing at all seemed sweeter now than the simple pleasure of sitting by a fire and listening to Oaken and Anders swap stories. It was like a long-lost relic from her childhood, once treasured, then lost, then found again. It charmed her, but as she thought on it, it also made her grow sad. To think of Astrid again…

“How is she?” said Anna. “How is Astrid? I haven’t seen her, since…”

Their faces fell, and they shared a gloomy look. “We haven’t talked in some time, either,” said Anders.

“As far as we know, she is living in Burrowstown, still,” said Oaken.

His expression darkened so much as he said this that it planted an uneasy feeling in Anna’s core. A tight-lipped Anders looked down at his tea cup as though lost in thought.

“What’s wrong?” said Anna suddenly.

The two of them snapped their heads up to look at her, seeming a mix between off-put and annoyed. But embarrassment was a trifle next to uncovering whatever it was that hung over them and their lonely little cabin, so Anna persisted.

“I know something’s wrong,” said Anna, leaning forward in her seat. “I’ve never seen either of you look so dour. And I know that Brendan is the lord in Burrowstown, and he… well, I know that can’t be good. So, what is it? And where,” she added, surprised it took her this long to come to it, “is Kristoff?”

“Kristoff is in Vardale,” said Anders at once. “At least, so I think. He ought to be far from here at any rate.” Oaken nodded his affirmation.

“And why is that?” asked Anna.

“Lord Brendan,” said Anders darkly. He set his cup of tea down on a rickety side table and leaned towards the fire. He picked up a rusty old poker and stoked the fire a bit. Little cinders climbed into the air and vanished. “It’s for his own safety that we have sent Kristoff away.”

“I don’t understand,” said Anna. “Why would Kristoff need to be safe from Lord Brendan?”

Oaken hunched over in his seat and spoke in a low growl. “Lord Brendan has been sending men all over his domain, impressing folk into hard labor, building his little forts. Mostly young men, which is why it’s not safe for Kristoff here. And there are other reasons, too, such as – ”

“But Lord Brendan is the Lord Mayor of Burrowstown,” interrupted Anna. “His domain hardly extends into the Rockwoods! You are far from his lands, far from his authority.”

Anders chuckled. “His is the authority of many armed men. They rove further each day, and with impunity. I am surprised you didn’t know of this. It’s a civil war, after all.”

The words stung Anna and left her feeling numb. Her jaw hung open as a slow realization took root. Martin had said something about Burrowstown. “Lord Brendan is in rebellion?”

“Not so far as we know, no,” said Anders. “But he is using the Valkyrie’s rebellion as pretext for his roaming militias. We heard of a meeting to take place in Burrowstown, but… that’s not what has us worried.

“We’re worried,” Anders went on slowly, “because Lord Brendan knows we’re here.”

The fire crackled as though nobody had said anything. The soft hisses and snaps were occluded by a beating noise in Anna’s ears.

“Some men of his came by last week, _ja_ ,” said Oaken grimly. “Or they seemed like men of his. Dressed in darks with little wolf pins. They didn’t want to buy or trade, nor were they sulky, but they seemed happy to meet us. They asked us our names and then continued on their way, as if that’s all they needed to know.”

“We think,” said Anders, “they may come back, and…” He shrugged.

“I can fight them,” offered Anna. “I’m… rather good at fighting.”

Anders raised an eyebrow. “You would fight several armed men by yourself?”

“I’ve plied worse odds – but wouldn’t you also fight?”

“No,” said Anders simply.

“Why not? You needn’t be good at it; and a heavy stick would serve, if you could use naught else…”

Anders sighed and rubbed his temples. “No, Anna – it’s nothing like that. It’s that I do not _believe_ in fighting.”

Anna gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that I do not believe in raising my hands against another man,” said Anders calmly. “It is not something I wish ever to do. To fight, to kill another man – I cannot imagine such a thing.” He shook his head sullenly.

Anna was taken aback by this revelation. She sat back in her seat. “What if,” she started slowly, “somebody was trying to hurt… say… Oaken? Or Kristoff? What would you do, then?”

Anders spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “Now you understand why I live out here. I lack the courage to hurt a person.”

Anna frowned. “And, also, the courage to help a person.”

Oaken interrupted Anders’s nascent reply with a wave of his hand. “It is beside the point,” he said briskly. “Even if we had the means to repel them for one night, they would certainly come again, _ja?_ We also know not if they will come tonight, or tomorrow, or a week hence; and that reminds me, Anna, what brings you this far north?”

“That’s right,” agreed Anders. “It was silly of us not to ask. Anna, what do you need? Is there any way we can help you?”

“I’m here to climb the North Mountain,” she replied. On seeing their puzzled looks, she added, “But not for fun, mind you. ‘Tis orders from the queen.”

“Orders from the queen,” repeated Anders dryly.

“It is important,” insisted Anna.

“Not as important as dealing with Lord Brendan, apparently.”

The veiled criticism burned through Anna’s patience like a blaze through dry wood. Face blistering with anger, she jumped to her feet. “And how do you propose she deal with him?” she snarled. “Send her men to kill his men? Have her men do the dirty work of fighting that you – you – you won’t even do on your _own_ behalf?”

A shadow crossed Anders’s face, and he opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off when a sharp rapping at the door snapped them all out of it. Three heads whirled to regard the slab of wood like it was the crack of hell.

“Oh, gods,” muttered Anders, jumping to his feet. “You don’t think…?”

“ _Ja_ ,” said Oaken with a deep frown, also standing. “I heard travelers passing through out of Morsheim, saying there are naught on these roads but Brendan’s men… I thought Anna must have been them, before I answered the door.”

“We must hide her,” said Anders and his eyes darted around the room. “There!” He pointed at the trunk filled with old rags. He ran to it and started casting rags aside, creating space within for Anna to fit. “Anna, you must get in here and hide…”

“No,” said Anna. “I can fight them. I can stop them, whatever they’re about to do – even if you won’t.”

The knocking came again, louder and longer. “There’s _no time_ ,” said Anders. “Oaken and I will do whatever they ask. It will be a small enough price to pay. We won’t risk your life on our comfort.”

“But – ”

“ _ENOUGH!_ ” hissed Anders. His mouth fell and, in a trembling voice, he whispered, “ _Please._ ”

Wordlessly, Anna let Anders guide her into the trunk, and Anders closed the lid on top of her.

Footsteps thudded through the darkness and became faint as another series of rapid knocks was cut short by the whining of a door hinge.

“Took you long enough,” came a loud, gruff voice.

“What business have you here?” came Anders’s voice. “This is a private domicile, and we will not be harassed.”

A ripple of laughter passed through the air. “We are here on the order of His Lordship, Lord Brendan Burrows the Great,” came another voice, this one sly. “Word is that you’ve been out here on His Lordship’s land, swapping contraband with rebels, no-goodniks, and scoundrels.”

Some faint chuckles, and then, Oaken’s voice, very stern, “We do not sell any contraband. You can look around and see for yourself…”

“Any dealings you’ve done with rebels,” said the sly voice, “would _implicitly_ involve contraband.”

“Right,” rejoined the gruff voice. “Implicit-like and all that.”

“Look, I don’t know what kind of game you’re trying to play here,” said Anders agitatedly, “but we’re just a simple trading post. Now, blow off, you chuffers. If we see any rebels we’ll be sure to tell you.”

The responding jeers died away almost as quickly as they sprang up, and the sounds of heavy iron boots entering the room punctuated the last laugh. And then another voice, this one hoarse and distant, quiet but audible, spoke out: “You have dealt with the one they call Anna, yes?”

A momentary pause. “What’s that have to do with anything?” said Anders.

“You have dealt,” repeated the voice, “with the one they call Anna, yes?”

“Anna who?” said Oaken.

A rasping, coughing sound. “Ser Anna,” whispered the voice.

“We know her,” admitted Anders.

A loud exhale like a gust of wind blew through the room and seemed to howl all around the black space of the trunk. “Then my Lord would speak with you,” said the voice.

Unable to bear it anymore, carefully, slowly, Anna pushed up the lid of the trunk, and peered through the crack into the light of the room. It was dark outside now, and only the burning fire provided any light. Several men, half-a-dozen at least, crowded around the door, and a light came from outside, wavering slightly like a lantern flame. Anders and Oaken stood side-by-side, and before them was a cloaked figure, its face completely invisible beneath the shadow of its hood. Though it was shorter than Oaken by at least a hand, it seemed to impose itself in such a way as to appear double its height. The lantern and the hearth fire cast long shadows on the walls behind it that danced in between various minutiae and jars of preserves.

Its head shifted slightly, and reflexively, Anna retreated back into the darkness, suddenly terrified beyond rational thought. _Did it see me?_

“We heard talking,” said the sly voice, now sounding slightly more reserved. “Was anyone else in here with you?”

“No,” said Anders at once.

“We found a horse just standing around outside. Don’t suppose that’s yours?”

Hesitation. “Yes. We are simply letting it get some air, _ja?_ ” said Oaken.

A shuffle of feet. “Search the place,” said the sly voice. “And _you two_ are coming with us. It would be best…” the voice paused, as if savoring the moment, “if you did not resist.”

There was some more shuffling of feet, and now Anders and Oaken said nothing. The sounds of searching went all around the cabin, boots pounding the floorboards, displaced objects falling over one another. One pair of boots very clearly approached the trunk, and she heard the steps grow loud and very close as they stopped just nearby. Anna’s heart pounded rapidly and she checked that her sword was still there. _If they open the trunk…_ she thought…

But she didn’t have time to complete the thought. Light spilled into the trunk and Anna stared up in horror as a masked man dressed in heavy winter gear opened the lid. Light brown eyes peered from out of the mask and held her own for a fraction of a second, before the lid slammed shut again.

“Anything in that trunk?” rumbled the gruff voice from nearby.

“Just some rags,” was the response, soft and plain.

The sounds of searching went on for several more minutes until, at last, footsteps pounded out the front door and only two voices remained.

“Suppose we need any of this?” asked the gruff voice.

“No,” said the sly voice. “We’ll take the horse, but most of this is junk. Unless you want a jar of lutefisk?”

“Got plenty at home.”

The door slammed behind them, and then noises and commotion carried on outside, growing fainter and fainter until they disappeared among the sounds of the emerging night. The hoot of a distant owl served as the trigger: Anna threw open the lid and jumped out of the trunk into a cold and dark room.

It had been completely ransacked. Things were scattered everywhere, and the fire was quenched and cold. It was dark except for starlight streaming faintly through wide-shuttered windows.

Anna went to the door and pushed it open. The night greeted her with a mild sting of chill, and her horse was nowhere to be seen. She didn’t even know its name, she realized.

She walked quietly out into the yard of the clearing, looking at the towering trees all around. The distinct feeling of being cornered, of being trapped and surrounded, reared up in her, and without thinking about it, she tore into the forest, in the direction of the mountain.

She had gone a ways before she stopped before a tree with a trunk so curved it might have been a crescent moon. It cast a wide canopy from on tall, and moonlight streamed between the leaves, twinkling like dragonflies over a clear pond.

Anna sat down in the crook of the tree, and sighed miserably.

“What is wrong with me?” she asked the world. “I just sat and watched while they took them away. I could have killed them, easily, I’m sure. I’m good at that. It’s all I’m good at.”

She did not remember falling asleep.

She was in a storm cloud. How she was sure of this, she did not know – but she was in it all the same. Thunder rumbled around her and air blew hot and cold in spinning whorls.

Jalhrimnir held his lantern and floated among the black clouds. The light of his lantern was pale and weak, and he himself was translucent, dim and hard to make out among the outline of the swirling tempest.

Immediately Anna thought of Elsa, thought with all her heart and her might of the queen: and no sooner did she think this, than Jalhrimnir turned to look at her, as though it had heard her shout, scream at the top of her lungs. And a sudden blackness took them all around. No more clouds, just pure, pitch darkness; a void, where, distant, a tiny speck of white floated like a snowflake on the breeze.

The next morning’s dawn seared her eyes into awakening. She turned her back to the east and closed her eyes again.

 

* * *

 

When Anna had gathered again her wits and her courage, she set her eyes skywards and on the rising slope of the mountain. She had come this far, and now had no choice but to climb. So she did.

Eventually the trees fell away as Anna made her way up the winding slope. She was not on a path, and the ground was treacherous and uneven, but she was determined. She crisscrossed back and forth across the mountain’s face, making slow but steady progress, and occasionally cast her eyes back on the rolling landscape behind her.

Clouds had gathered overhead and for many miles around, and when the sun had risen inches into the sky, it was hidden again and the day was overcast. The air was brisk and the climbing difficult, but she continued on. Whenever a thought of regret or dismay threatened itself on her mind, she put on a burst of energy, as if to go higher would also leave every bad decision behind.

It worked, after a fashion. The higher she went, the more the land stretched out behind her. The mountain face swept below her and moved outwards to become an impossibly huge vista. She squinted and tried to find landmarks, but it was easier said than done. She saw the Mud River, winding its way through the Rockwoods. She saw a gray line like graphite that, she thought, had to be the Springway. She saw brown-gray hills and trees belted with lines like carefully arranged matchsticks.

At some time that must have been noon, she rested on a rock outcropping and watched the world. Clouds were passing by now, and they felt damp and cool. They only somewhat obscured the vast land below. There she had a small lunch of cold fowl and dried cabbage that had been salted and brined. But afterwards, she could not abide the feeling of idleness, and so Anna forced herself to climb again.

Soon she broke through the clouds and, climbing a bit more, turned and looked out upon the world. The cloud cover, which had been dense and thick from below, here now carpeted all the world such that it seemed an endless field of white wool stretched to the horizon. The sun stood above it like a golden orb, and its beams were hot though the wind was cold. Its light dazzled the clouds and painted all in golden streaks. Yet larger and taller clouds stood out here and there and climbed to immeasurable heights.

The top of the mountain was visible, a distant point where the slope converged from all angles. Rocks, boulders, slopes and curves stood out on the jagged face and Anna was hit by a rare pang of excitement. The peak was close, and what would she find at its top?

She moved with untiring speed, motivated by the promise of the peak. But as she went, the wind began to make strange noises. It whistled, whipped, and howled as always it did, but now, too, seemed to whisper.

It was inaudible, unintelligible, if whispers they were; but it was almost distinct, barely recognizable as the cusp of speech. They did not make sense, but they did impart unease. Curiously, the feeling never developed beyond that vague discomfort, and she continued undaunted.

After many hours’ climb, she stood at the ultimate crest of the mountain. The peak itself was a gnarled point, a spire of jagged rock. But Anna had reached the highest place that walking would allow: a small, gently sloped plateau, split in half by a wide, deep chasm, stood all around the spire.

She had been climbing all day, and was tired. The sun was setting again and tall clouds were milling through the sky. There was no snow up here – that surprised Anna. It was cold, but there was no snow.

Anna sat down on a flat, gray rock, and looked around the plateau. “I’m here,” Anna told the mountain. “Just thought I should mention that, in case you have any monsters for me to fight, or…”

But silence persisted. The plateau remained empty and the sun continued its slow descent.

Anna jumped to her feet and strode around the plateau, up to the chasm and up to the cliff edges, and paced impatiently, searchingly.

And then, she saw it.

It was painted in thin air, visible only by the light reflected from the mountain itself. White and blue, faint and clear, the visage of a tremendous castle made of ice appeared across the chasm, huge pillars of crystal and ice supporting its fantastic size. Step by step, an icy stairway revealed itself on her side of the chasm, and leaped across empty space to meet the castle door, tall and glittering and inscribed on the front with a six-pointed snowflake. Tall icy towers spiraled out of a cavernous, pointed keep, puncturing the air and reflecting the light of the sun into a spectacular array of many colors, playing across the plain face of the mountain a spectrum of light and magic.

Anna’s heart thudded painfully. This had to be it.

She checked her belongings. Sword, shield, bow, boomerang, emerald pendant, wisp, bombos shards. She flexed the fingers of her golden gauntlets and drew Autumn from its scabbard. Holding it in both hands, she approached the castle.

She scaled the stair and met the door, opening it with a careful hand and slipping in through the entrance. She found herself in a long, cool hallway, also made of ice, lit by a series of tiny silvery windows in the eaves above. At the far end, another door awaited.

She had only taken a few steps when a vast, echoing noise ruptured through the castle, a dull, metallic groan or a low, creaking whine. It persisted for several long moments, aided by an otherworldly echo, and then faded away. Anna gripped her sword more tightly and continued forward.

It was just then that a series of odd and pervasive thoughts worked their way through her mind, accompanied by a burning, tingling sense in the tips of her fingers.

_I have returned._

_Long have I awaited this day._

_The predator will have her prey._

Autumn thrummed in her hands, and continued doing so when she stood before the final door. It, like the last, was marked with the sigil of Arendelle, and Anna pushed it open.

A long, dark, high-ceilinged hall awaited her. The walls were lined with thick, purple curtains, cast between tall, thin pillars. A ragged blue pathway, a cruel imitation of a carpet, carved into the icy floor itself, ran the length of the room to the dais at the end, where a tall man sat a throne with a silvery sword on his knees.

He wore a tattered glacier-colored cape over a suit of armor that seemed patchwork and translucent, clear white and speckled with spider webbed patterns like cracks in ice. But that was not the strangest thing about him, no – it was his face and hands. They were a sickly, greenish blue, a tint of mortifying pallor, but pale as the moon. He had a short beard that, though full, seemed weak and wispy, and his hair was white and coarse. Over his brow, a thin band of pale blue iron sat, stark against the sickly colors of his skin and hair.

Cold, hard, empty eyes stared out at nothing.

Anna crossed the room, sword in hand, and drew out her shield as she did. It was dark, but not too dark to see. Tiny cracks of light snuck around the heavy curtains.

Anna froze in place when the man’s jaw began to move, clacking and cracking in a stomach-turning way.

“My second visitor,” he rasped, “in such… a short time. I should… count myself… lucky.”

Slowly, the man stood up, and towered over the room. His left hand held the long, silver sword limply at his side.

“I have come for the Golden Power,” said Anna, and she raised her sword and shield and assumed a battle stance. “I know it’s here.”

“Aaahhh…” said the man. “Yeeessss… You are… touched…”

Suddenly, the man leapt from the dais and landed with a heavy crash in front of Anna, sending tremors through the floor and disrupting her balance for a brief and panicked moment. Anna took a frantic step backwards, and the man lifted his sword – swords; now, suddenly, his right hand was armed, too, with a shorter sword whose blade twisted up and down its length like a sidewinder.

“Feed my swords,” said the man. “Long has it… been since they… have tasted the… _cold_ …”

Autumn burned in Anna’s hand. The man’s swords came down, one after the other, and Anna repelled one and then the other. He moved like a flurry, a cavalcade of steel, a blur of sickly greenish colors, translucent and ethereal in the stale, cold air.

Anna blocked and blocked and stabbed back. It was a good strike, true – but no. Her sword found no purchase, nothing solid. It moved into thin air, though Anna saw her sword sticking through the man’s abdomen.

“Ah heh… heh…”

The reply came swiftly and smashed against her shield. It took the blow valiantly, and she remained hiding behind her shield for the next blow as well.

She slashed again. Still nothing. Though her sword moved through the place he was, it touched nothing solid.

“What is this?” Anna said involuntarily, alarmed. She backed up several paces more, and the man stalked after her.

“Your… future…” The man laughed raspily, and swung his swords. Anna blocked – clang, clang.

“My _future?_ ”

The man stopped, and seemed to shimmer in the air. “I am… the Ghost King…” he intoned, and lunged with unearthly speed. His swords caught Anna on the edge of her shield and sent her stumbling across the room. She hit the wall by one of the curtains, and gasped in pain, dropping Autumn.

At once, it felt as though someone had thrown a bucket of water over her. The flame within was quenched, and she shivered. With great effort, she forced her bleary vision to focus again. The man – the ghost – the _thing_ was approaching, an insouciant smile on his wretched face, his gait slow and lumbering.

“I hear… your suffering…” he whispered.

Anna slid to the ground, sitting helplessly as the revenant approached. She felt weak, and by mere proximity to such a terrible monster, felt weaker by the second. All the fight seemed to drain out of her, all the hope, the courage, the will to live…

She was at the bottom. She knew it, somehow. The ghost had taken everything out of her. No thoughts nor feelings remained – ah, distantly, there was Elsa, but even that was frozen over, chilled, inaccessible; and, strangely, seemed now to have always been that way. It was separate from her mind. Anna was gone, now – all that remained was Elsa, and ice, and she could touch neither. Fruitlessly, she bashed herself – did she even have a self? – against the ice, against Elsa, against whatever she could, trying desperately, scrambling for purchase, but there was nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Then she felt it. In the desolation, she felt it like an odd and fuzzy tickle. A barely audible hum, something singing to itself, a little, tiny, atomic flame. It was blue, and bobbed and spun.

She went to it. “Who am I?”

“You’re Anna,” said the flame helpfully. “Erm, who am I?”

“You’re Jalhrimnir,” said Anna automatically.

“Oh, thank you,” said Jalhrimnir. “I had forgotten, you see.”

“I know,” Anna said with a sympathetic nod. Did she nod? She felt like she had.

“That was a very sympathetic nod,” said Jalhrimnir with a thoughtful bob.

“Really? That’s what I was aiming for,” said Anna.

“Well, I appreciate it. I like a little sympathy now and then.”

“You’re dying,” said Anna.

“So are you,” said Jalhrimnir, a little defensively. “I can’t _help_ it, you know. Trapped in that bottle…”

“I’m dying?”

“Yes. All humans are, but you’re putting a bit of a hasty spin on it.”

Anna put a hand on her chin and nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, I’ll free you before I die, then.”

“Oh,” said Jalhrimnir. “Thank – ”

Her eyes snapped open. The revenant was nearly on her now. Quickly, she reached down her shirt, pulled out the bottled wisp, and regarded it for half a moment – it was barely a glow now.

She ripped the bottle off its string and smashed it against the floor.

There was a shattering noise, and then a roar like a tidal wave of fire. A red blaze filled the room, swooping all around. The revenant cried out in fury, backing away, as the flames licked at his sides.

The flames spread out in a wide arc, catching all of the curtains in the room. All at once, they were ablaze, and screamed with fire. In moments it was over, and where once a flame scorched the walls of the ice palace, now many open-air windows spilled in the light of day.

The revenant cried out again, stumbling through the sunlight. “I’ll kill you!...” he promised with a shout.

Anna picked up her sword and wobbled to her feet, her mind returning to her in a mad rush. Autumn thrummed eagerly as she lifted her shield. It caught the light of the sun and reflected it all around.

The ghost took up his swords and advanced on Anna again, but the light reflected by the shield illuminated his form. Suddenly, he was solid, as of a living man, and there was no mark of ghostliness to him – and his eyes, blank and distant, became the color of sky-kissed flowers.

He stared into the shield for a long time.

“By the gods,” he said, trembling. “I… I see…. I see her… I… I’m… I’m…”

He fell to his knees, eyes watering. “I’m so sorry.”

 _Finish him_ , said Autumn.

Anna moved forward, lifting her blade and bringing it down to slash the kneeling man.

“I’m sorry!” shrieked the man with the first slash.

 _SAYING IT MEANS NOTHING!_ yelled Autumn. _DO YOU REMEMBER ME NOW?_ /Slash!/ _DO YOU?_ /Slash!/ _IT’S ME AGAIN!_ /Slash!/ _I’M PAYING YOU BACK!_ /Slash!/ _AFTER ALL THESE YEARS, DO YOU._ **REMEMBER. ME.** _**NOW?**_

“I’M SORRY!”

Anna stabbed him finally through the chest, and pulled her sword free again, panting. He fell over and vanished like a string of sand swept by the wind. Not a trace of him remained thereafter.

The room seemed to change, then, in the light of the sun. The throne on the dais faded away, and it was replaced by a tall, icy pedestal, upon which sat a small, golden box.

 _The final piece,_ thought Anna.

Anna sheathed her sword and all but ran to the box. She stood before it with scarce a breath in her chest. This was it, what she had come all this way for. This was it. At long last, the final piece.

Gingerly, she opened the box, and removed the lid. Inside, the shape of the box allowed a small cushion, in which was a sharp indentation. But no golden glow emanated from within.

The box was empty.

The shard was missing.

Anna’s breathing grew shallow. She dropped the lid and backed away, mind reeling. Could it be…? A seizure of panic overtook her. The windows grew dark. Heart pounding, she dashed out of the room and down the icy hallway, to stand at the top of the frozen staircase that bridged the chasm.

Little snowflakes fell from above and, to the south, dark and heavy clouds gathered and unfolded over all the lands below, obscuring the light of the sun, and smothering the promise of summer.

 


	22. The Endless Winter

The southern skies rumbled with spreading darkness, vengeful thunderheads rearing up and casting malevolent shadows over all the lands below. Overhead, fingers of sunlight became lost in sheets of black clouds that dripped with snowflakes. They settled on Anna’s tunic and clung. The wind picked up and cast the falling snow in moving spirals through the dark, bitter air.

“A shadow hangs over Arendelle,” came a voice – a mere whisper on the wind. Anna perked up and looked around, but she was alone on the mountain. “Long has it been there, and long it will remain…”

Anna’s heart pounded as she continued to glance about. “Who are you?” she asked. “Where are you? Did you take the sixth shard?”

“I did not,” said the wind. “It was given to me, and… taken away. The curse of the oathbreaker. I _see_ you, young one – I see the path that lies before you. And I see what lies within. You will have to make a choice, soon…”

“Show yourself!” shouted Anna, and she drew her sword. It thrummed powerfully in her hands. Flame seared through her and a noxious rage consumed her mind. “Enough of these tricks! Give me the sixth piece!”

“It is not here, nor mine to give,” said the wind. “It was always hers to take.”

Anna cleaved the air with a mighty swing of her sword. She panted heavily as she slashed again and again. “Give – me – the – piece!”

“It is not here,” said the wind.

Anna stopped slashing. She lowered her sword and continued to gasp in breaths of thin, weak air. “Where is it, then?” she asked hoarsely.

A ribbon of light shot out from above the mountain’s peak as she spoke, and wound back and forth across the sky before shooting due south. Distantly, it vanished into the clouds. Anna’s heart grew heavy and sunk, and she realized… Crystalwater.

“Who…?”

“You will have to make a choice, soon,” said the wind. “I hope you do not make the same mistake I did. Ah, Elina… I… was a fool…”

The voice died away to the thin howling of the black, hollow wind. Slowly, Anna sheathed her sword, and, eyes fixed southwards, felt suddenly draped in abject hopelessness.

“I don’t have a horse,” she said aloud. So much for a speedy return. It had already been close on a week that she’d been gone – much could have happened in that time, and in the next two weeks or more that it would take to return to Crystalwater on foot.

But there was no use being miserable about it. Here, atop the mountain, the entire world spread out below. Anna took a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other. Distantly, she thought she heard a whistle on the wind.

She passed below the clouds and soon was among the trees of the hills. They were deathly quiet in the quick-falling snow, and had upon them the pallid grayness that accompanies a deep and somber winter. Between thick motes of snow, they stood like old sentinels, their armor green and speckled white and grown rough with age. But above all, they were quiet, and watched, but said nothing.

Before long she descended a the side of a small hillock that spilled into the clearing where the Haunted Trading Post waited for its keepers to return. Dark windows betrayed the emptiness within, and Anna's gaze lingered there.

A soft noise broke her concentration. She turned her head and looked into the forest, in the direction of the sound, but all therein was yet still. She continued to look, squinting her eyes, and a shape appeared out of the fog. Tall, and long – it came out of the shadows and Anna's eyes widened in recognition.

“Epona!”

The horse cantered up to her. It was truly Epona, saddled and looking healthy and radiant even among the gloomy atmosphere of the dark forest. Anna's heart burst in relief and excitement. She jumped forward and embraced the horse, stroking the side of her head with a gentle hand.

“How did you find me?” Anna asked.

Epona made a snorting noise, and that was that. The wind whistled softly.

“I need to get back to Crystalwater,” Anna said earnestly, looking Epona in the eyes. “As soon as possible. Can you help me?”

Epona snorted again, and lowered herself slightly. Anna swung around and took her seat on Epona's back, and grabbed the reins. With a pull and a press of the heel, they were off on the forest path, making fast tracks in the fresh-fallen snow, southward bound.

 

* * *

 

They came up on Crystalwater five sunrises later, mid-day although you couldn't tell it to look, for all was covered in ice and snow and the air was alive with heavy white whisks. The Springway shot like an arrow to the tall walls of the city where, beyond, Anna could barely make out the spires of the Arenborg.

Epona moved of her own accord down the final stretch of road. Like a mist over still water, they arrived soundlessly at the gate, bursting out of the fog to the startlement of the two guardsmen on duty.

“By the gods! Who goes there?” one of them called up.

“Ser Anna, the Knight of Crystalwater,” Anna called back.

“Ser Anna?” he repeated with an undisguised note of shock.

“Did you say Ser Anna?” said the other.

Anna frowned and turned her horse to the side so that she could get a better look at the soldiers. Both of them were dressed in the traditional mail and arms of the city watch, but wore thick black cloaks over their surcoats, probably to help keep out the cold. Their faces were obscured by visored helms.

“I did,” said Anna. “Now, let me enter.”

The guards exchanged a glance, and, as if reluctantly, sent up the order to open the gate. They watched her as she passed through and under the walls of the city.

Inside the walls, the city was dark and quiet. The snow on the ground was thick and warm window lights burned like feeble candles throughout the city. The houses seemed somehow smaller, now, as if they were huddling up to one another for warmth. Anna could see the Merchant's Manor on Hugoss Hill, near the harbor. It was the brightest object in the city, and Anna idly wondered if the Lord Admiral was home. Suddenly she remembered that his sons had been part of the meeting in Burrowstown, and a crawling feeling unsettled her.

Whatever happened in Burrowstown... the question had been on her mind the past few days. It, and others. In the mad dash to return to Crystalwater, she had thought about Martin's last words to her, and the spiriting away of Oaken and Anders. Something was amiss, and it took the shard for her to truly realize it. So much had she shunt it down for her faith and duty to the queen came first –

Ah, yes. The queen. The queen would know what to do. She would make things right.

She crossed the drawbridge into the Arenborg, itself like a monstrous gray mountain in the dark storm. The spiretops were white with snow and newly formed ice, and the Tower of Arendelle...

Oh.

The Tower of Arendelle was completely covered in ice. Frost and long icicles jutted out from all corners of it. The storm had clearly inflicted its chill at that height worse than anywhere. In fact, though it was absurd to think so, Anna got the oddest feeling that there was cold coming _from_ the tower, as if it was the epicenter of some... some... some vortex of cold. Above, the clouds seemed blacker than anywhere else, though whether that was a matter of truth or an illusion created by Anna's fearful heart, she could not say.

“Halt. Who goes there?” said one of the men-at-arms standing guard outside the castle gates.

“Ser Anna,” said Anna. “Please let me in. I must see the queen at once.”

“I – Ser – you said, Ser Anna?” repeated the guard, evidently flummoxed.

“Yes, I did. Why does that unseat you so?”

“My lady, forgive me – it is just... nobody expected to see you return so soon.”

Anna frowned. “What do you mean? I was set to be gone no longer than a fortnight. And in any case it matters not. I am here and I need to see the queen.”

The guardsman's mouth opened and closed like that of a gasping fish. “My lady, that's just it. The queen is... she is gone.”

The word fell on Anna like an anvil. “ _Gone?_ ” she repeated.

“Yes, or – so says the Lord Regent, but...”

The other guardsman here cut in. “Shut up, Oleg! You can see for yourself Ser Anna has come back, just as Martin said she would – clearly there is more to this than the Lord _Regent_ ” - he spat - “has told. Quickly! I will let her in, you must go find Martin with haste!”

The first guardsman nodded feebly and gave Anna an awkward salute before vanishing through the wicket at a speed just shy of a full-on sprint.

Anna watched the exchange with fascination. She turned to the other guardsman. “What is the meaning of all this? Who is the Lord Regent?”

He bowed his head. “Ser Anna. You have returned at a good time, or at least a better time than tomorrow would be. Aught is amiss, and circumstances are dire. Here! The gate is opened. Martin will see you soon. I am Berthold.”

“Who is the Lord Regent?” repeated Anna impatiently. “And what do you mean when you say the queen is missing?”

“We mean just that: she is gone, and nobody knows where-to. The Lord Regent is the man who told us of her disappearance, and who has taken upon himself the arduous task of ruling the country in her stead until she returns. I think you know who that is!” Berthold's eyes were cold as he glowered up at Anna.

Of course she knew at once, the moment he said it. “Lord Hans.”

She kicked Epona into a gallop, dashing through the courtyard drifts. Berthold called after her, but his voice was lost on the wind.

Lord Hans.

She had to see him.

She dismounted Epona beneath the entry awnings and was stopped from entering the castle by two further guardsmen, these two dressed in a deep, black enamel plate.

“Halt, go no further,” they said in unison.

“Let me through,” ordered Anna. “I must needs see Lord Hans.”

“That is the Lord _Regent_ to you,” snarled one of the men.

Anna felt her temper flare. “Let me through, or I swear on every blessed rock and stone between here and Corona that I will cut you down.” She put her hand on her sword's hilt. It thrummed with vibrant rage.

“And rot in a dungeon for it!” retorted the guard, pointing a finger at Anna. “You... you...”

Suddenly he petered off. Though his face was not visible behind his black greathelm, he pulled back and his hand hung loosely in the air. For a moment he seemed unmoving, unbreathing, and then just as suddenly again he spoke.

“Forgive me, my lady,” he said. “Please, enter. Lord Hans will want to see you at once.”

The two guardsmen moved aside and opened the great double-doors for her. She moved past them without a second glance and dashed through the castle, mind set on the Crooked Tower.

The castle help were nowhere in the halls which were quiet as the grave. Here and there, more black-enameled guards stood in front of doors and before entryways, and when Anna passed, their heads turned to watch her go. No other guards, and no other people, were to be found.

She had reached the Crooked Tower and had put her foot on the first step to climb it when suddenly a man ran into her from above.

“Oof!” he squeaked and stumbled backwards. Anna kept her footing but the man was not so lucky, and he fell on his rear, maroon bangs falling over his eyes.

“Hey, watch where you're go- oh, Ser Anna!” He looked up, and wiped the bangs out of his eyes, and Anna recognized Master Penrose. “It's you! It really is!”

“It is,” said Anna absently, and she extended a hand to help him up. He took it and stood again, dusting himself off.

Master Penrose gave her a vague look. “You... you haven't been here since the queen... disappeared.”

“No, I left about a fortnight ago,” said Anna. “I mean to see Lord Hans right this moment.”

“You do?” said Master Penrose, and his expression fell. “But... but Martin said...” He shook his head and shoved past Anna, exiting out the tower entrance in an uncharacteristic hurry.

Anna watched him go, then turned and climbed the steps.

A long hallway separated the stairwell from Hans's solar. Tall windows on either wall showed dark skies, and much of the light in the hallway came from burning torches. At the end, two further guards stood in front of the entryway to Hans's solar, each dressed in black armor and wearing over it ink-colored capes trimmed with white.

One spoke to her as she approached, and she recognized immediately the voice of Ser Tazmus: “Ser Anna, it is good to see that you have returned. The Royal Guard have withered in your absence...”

“I need to see Lord Hans at once.”

“The Lord Regent is currently busy, my lady. You are welcome to wait here until he is ready to meet you.”

Anna narrowed her eyes. “The word is that the queen is gone. What could he be busy with that is more pressing than her safety?”

“The same,” said Ser Tazmus slowly, “could be asked of you.”

Anna felt color rise in her cheeks and she could barely keep from balling her fists. “And what of you? The entire Royal Guard simply let her up and vanish, is that it?”

He inclined his head in a bashful manner. “It is true. None were more distraught than we who took the oath to protect the queen to learn of her disappearance. The night you left, the queen was nowhere to be found, not in the castle nor in the city. We have adopted the color of night as our arms and armor until she is returned to us.”

“Returned _to you?_ ” Anna fully clenched her fists. “You ought to be out there in the snow, looking for her, if that is what it takes. In fact... in fact... I _order_ you to gather the guard and get together a search party!”

Ser Tazmus shook his head. “I am sorry, my lady. The Lord Regent has ordered we stay here.”

“Then I would speak to him.”

“He is busy,” said Ser Tazmus mechanically. “You are welcome to wait here until he is ready to meet you.”

Fists still clenched, Anna spun and walked a good distance away, until she stood in the middle of the hallway, where she paced back and forth. _Fine, I will wait. I will wait all night and day if I must. I_ will _have answers from you, my lord._

At length, she sat down on one of many sofas lining the walls, and buried her head in her hands, impatient and dour and trying her best to keep helpless feelings at bay. The queen was gone – _gone?_ Damn them all. Damn Ser Tazmus. Damn the guard. Damn every blessed man-at-arms in the castle. Damn Lord Hans.

Damn herself.

She shoved the feeling down, but like bile, the self-blame clawed up through her insides. _Please_ , she thought, _let it not be true. I can't have... have failed..._

A voice broke her out of her reverie. Her head shot up, and there was Martin. His face, once so young and innocent-looking, now had the shade of a beard upon it, and his eyes were dull and gray in the miserable light – and yet, she saw the kindling of a fire there, a piercing light behind the dullness, one that was fanned by some unseen breath of wind.

“Ser Anna,” he said quietly, and took a knee before her. “Thank the gods you're okay.”

“Martin,” Anna heard her voice wavering but she could not control it. “What happened?”

“The day you left, the queen vanished. Nobody saw where to.” Martin narrowed his eyes. “She just disappeared. And the next day Lord Hans proclaimed himself Lord Regent. He told us the queen was... was kidnapped. And immediately the rumor spread that it was _you_ who kidnapped her.”

“ _What?”_ repeated Anna.

“Of course, it is a lie. You would never do that. I told all the men, but... Ser Tazmus and the Royal Guard, I... I think they believed it.”

“But I didn't – I – I would never!...”

“I know that, ser!” said Martin earnestly. “But Hans, he has... he has a way with people. I don't quite understand it. I haven't spoken to him privately since the day after you left. Something about him felt... felt odd. And anyway I don't think the queen is truly missing. I think she's in this castle, but... enough about that! We are in danger as long as we stay here. Now that you have returned, I know it for sure. We must escape the city at once.”

Anna blinked. “What? Escape? But, I...”

Martin went on, speaking rapidly in hushed, fervent tones. “It's too dangerous to stay. The guard is clearly in Hans's pockets, and the watch is split between the captain and Lord Myles.”

“But what about Lord Hugoss?” asked Anna.

Martin gave her a taken-aback look. “What about him?”

“Lord Hugoss is a good man,” said Anna confidently. “He is loyal, and true, and... and surely he can be trusted?”

Martin blinked. “Ser, Lord Hugoss's sons are being held captive. He can do nothing.”

“Held captive? By whom? Not by Lord Hans? They were at the meeting in Burrowstown...”

Martin's eyes widened in stupefaction. “Do you really not know, ser? By the gods, I can see that you must not know. The meeting was a trap. Lord Brendan took all the guests captive and killed their retinues. He named them rebels and locked them up in his new fort, which he has called Wolfhill. It's been all the talk, and never moreso than when the queen shortly vanished. Do you understand? Lord Hans and Lord Brendan are allies. They have captured Lord Morning and taken Lord Hugoss's sons as captives. And now the queen is ostensibly missing – so Lord Hans...”

Martin hesitated, but Anna, speaking from a deep and defeated part within herself, finished for him. “Lord Hans rules the kingdom, now,” she said soberly.

Martin nodded. “Aye.” He clasped his hands together. “So, now you see. It is dangerous for us to stay. We must escape, and... and do... ah, I don't know what we can do, but we cannot stay.”

For a time after that, they were both silent. Anna looked at the ground. It was so much to take in, and far worse than she had imagined. She didn't want to believe it, but... the time for convenient truths was past. She looked up.

“Martin?”

“Yes?”

“You said the queen was here? In the castle?”

Hesitantly, Martin nodded. “I think so. I... I couldn't get close enough to check, but... I think that she is being kept in... in the Tower of Arendelle.”

Anna leaned closer. “Truly?”

“I swear, that is what all my instincts tell me.”

Anna frowned, and looked at the ground again. “As long as the queen is here, I cannot leave her,” she said after a long pause.

She did not see Martin's reaction, but she heard it in his voice. Without a spare moment, he replied, “Then I will not leave you, either.”

“No, Martin.” She looked him in the eyes. “ _You_ can go. You must go. You did not swear to protect anyone – ”

“I swore to serve you – ”

“Then serve me,” said Anna, “and go.”

Martin's jaw worked as he all but gaped at Anna.

Anna went on, “Take all that you can. Take all the men and their squires who will listen to you. Ser Puck, Little John – take all of them. And get Maple, too. Do not allow her to resist, drag her kicking and screaming if you must, but see that she is safe. Go west. Find the Valkyrie. Perhaps... perhaps you will be able to make something happen.”

Martin nodded dumbly. “But... but ser... what about you?”

Anna gave a sad smile. “I will do my duty. For once.” Anna stood up, and so did Martin. “Now go.”

For a moment, it looked as though Martin was about to listen. He took one step in the direction of the stairwell, before he turned and, eyes still wide, quavered.

“Ser,” squeaked Martin, “I am your squire, I... I cannot leave you.”

Squire. What an interesting word that was. A squire was bound to serve a knight, to protect their knight from harm, and to do all that their knight asked of them. But most of all, for a squire to be apart from their knight should they come to an untimely end was considered a great dishonor. And for all that Anna knew, though little it was, she knew that to stay would be to hang the danger of that over Martin's head.

No. Martin's honor was far too great for that. Anna would not bring him down with her.

“Kneel, Martin,” she said.

“...Ser?”

“Kneel.”

Slowly, Martin knelt. Anna drew her sword.

Any knight can make a knight.

She placed Autumn's tip on his right shoulder.

“I charge you to protect the men and women of this kingdom from all who would do them ill.”

She placed Autumn's tip on his left shoulder.

“I charge you to be chivalrous, kind, and just, and to be always good and true.”

She placed Autumn's tip on his right shoulder again.

“I charge you to keep the queen's laws and to always strive to serve her.”

She lifted her sword.

“Now, rise a knight, Ser Martin.”

Martin rose to his feet. His face had lost all color.

“You will be a better knight than I ever was,” whispered Anna, and she smiled.

Martin stared blankly. “My... father always told me that we were descended from a great knight who once served the kingdom, but that years of... of weak progeny like me ruined our bloodline. That is why he named me Martin, for he hoped it would make me strong – but he said I would never bring honor to our ancestors. Sometimes he wondered if I was even his son.”

Anna placed a hand on Martin's shoulder and squeezed tightly. “If ever a great knight numbers among your ancestors, you are clearly his descendant,” she told him. A flame blazed through her, and as she spoke, she spoke outside of herself, as if someone else was speaking through her – someone ancient, someone wise, someone from ages long past. “I name you Ancestor's Descendant. Do you know the word in the old tongue?”

Martin shook his head.

“It is 'Olaf'. From henceforth let you be known as Ser Martin Olaf, so none will doubt of your strength and valor.”

“I... thank you, ser...”

Anna beamed brightly, and gave Martin a light push. “Now, go. Go and save the bloody kingdom.”

Long after he had gone, after the last sounds of his footsteps on the flagstone stairwell had died out, Anna also left the Crooked Tower. She set a course for the Tower of Arendelle, where Martin said that Elsa was being held.

None stood on guard at the base of the tower, for it was assumed that the tower need never be guarded. Nobody ever climbed the Tower of Arendelle. Nobody except those in the Royal Family. To break this sacred rule was sacrilege of the highest form.

Anna climbed it anyway.

The stairs were marble white and the stairwell was dark. There were no torches and only the vaguest suggestions of windows. After a long climb, finally the stairs went straight up, and went through an arch into a wide atrium where the crack of ice beneath Anna's boots distracted her completely.

There was ice.

Ice everywhere.

Ice was spread all around the floor and walls of the atrium, a large room with high walls and tall, narrow windows. The room was semicircular and the end of it held a large set of double-doors, also completely encased in ice, but for a dark, thin line that ran down its middle, a very small and careful indentation. The windows, too, covered in ice, cast murky light into the room, and the ice glittered in some places and reflected shy glares in others. Beautiful mosaic patterns inlaid in the floor were obscured by ice and frost.

Anna beheld all of the ice, craning her head back to take it in, and found her gaze drawn up to the ceiling, from where hung a brilliant chandelier of such staggering beauty that Anna was completely awed. Like hundreds of giant snowflakes, interweaved and interlocking with one another, standing in the light and seeming to be a font of light in its own right – it cascaded in patterns of staggering complexity. It was so pure and perfect and beautiful, Anna knew it must be magic –

The word stuck in her mind like a twig sticks in a river dam. Magic.

Magic.

Magic.

A sudden piercing pain ripped through her head, and Anna groaned and clutched the sides of her head. Magic. Magic. Magic. Ice magic. No. No. No.

Elsa.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” came a calm, soft voice from behind her.

Slowly the pain ebbed away. Anna turned, wincing, to find Hans climbing the steps after her. His mouth was a thin line, but his eyes were full of wonder.

“It is difficult to imagine humans such as us could be responsible for such magnificent splendor,” he said, pacing to the middle of the room. “And even more difficult to imagine how truly little it all is.”

He paused in the middle of the room, his head turning slowly as he seemed to take in the beauty of the ice. Finally he turned to look at Anna. “You wanted to see me?”

“I did,” said Anna, peering at him suspiciously. “Lord Regent.”

Hans smiled wide, his teeth like marble tombstones. “What have you heard?”

“I heard that the queen is missing,” said Anna. “But she isn't, is she?”

She caught Hans's eye movement. It was fleeting, but he looked at the ice-covered door at the same time she did. “No, she's not,” he said evenly. “But this is not the place to discuss it. Shall we return to my solar?”

Without waiting for her to reply, he walked briskly past her and out of the atrium, down the steps of the tower. Anna gave the doors one last lingering stare before she followed him; for a moment, though it seemed perhaps a trick of the light, the ice seemed to move and swirl around in itself, like dye in a pool.

She followed Hans to his solar. This time, Ser Tazmus didn't say anything to her; he and the other guard only nodded their heads.

Hans's solar was as she remembered it the last time she had been in there, with the painting of the Young King hanging above the fireplace. Hans strode across the room to stand before the hearth, beckoning Anna to follow.

“Fire is very important, Anna,” he said when she drew near. “You know it is said to be one of the three gifts that the goddesses gave to man? The first being our bodies, the third being purpose, and the second being life. Fire.”

“I've heard the tale,” said Anna with an impatient glare.

Hans noticed the glare. He chuckled and drew himself up. “I'm afraid you are right. The queen is not truly gone. Indeed, she is still here. Not moments ago you stood outside the door where she is hiding.” He paused.

“So...” said Anna, “why doesn't someone go get her?”

“Indeed, why don't they?” mused Hans. He turned to face a Dulocish cabinet by the hearth and pulled out a bottle of wine. He appraised it carefully, then turned it over and spilled a chaste amount into a glass. “Wine?” he asked.

Anna didn't say anything, so he shrugged and put the bottle away.

“You're sure? It's an excellent wine. A Tirrenian red. Good to keep the chill out. Ah, well.” He raised the glass to his lips. “Cheers!”

“Enough!” shouted Anna. Her voice seemed to thunder across the room. “I know that you're hiding something. What are you up to? Why is the queen in that tower? And what's all this business pretending to be regent – pretending to go along with the idea that she's missing – when you _know_ where she is?”

“Hmm,” Hans set down his glass and looked thoughtful. “Anna, how do you feel?”

“What?”

“Hmm.” He paced in front of the fireplace, twiddling his thumbs. Outside, a sudden gust shook the window shutters. “I suppose it's best I told you outright. The queen... is a sorceress.”

“A _sorceress?_ ” repeated Anna incredulously. “Do you think this is some kind of game? How stupid do you think I am?”

Hans smiled ironically and shrugged his shoulders. “That all depends on how well you take this next part. She's a sorceress, and you've been cursed.”

Before Anna could open her mouth to retort, Hans cut her off, advancing as he spoke. “You don't remember being cursed, do you? No. Something has destroyed that memory for you. You are not capable of remembering it. And that is because of what's,” he pointed at her forehead, “in _there._ ”

Anna took an involuntarily step backwards, disarmed by Hans's sudden aggressiveness. “What are you talking about?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Do you remember the last time you met the queen?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” said Anna instantly.

“And do you remember what happened?”

“We... yes, I do.”

“What happened?”

Anna shifted from one foot to the other. “We kissed.”

“Is that all?”

_Yes,_ she almost said, but she stopped herself as she thought about it. “There was... something else, but I don't remember it.”

“You don't remember it? You don't remember ice and snow? You don't remember being attacked? You don't remember feeling so cold that only a fire could keep you alive?”

“No, I...”

Just then, a terrible white-hot pain seared through Anna's brain. It burned and throbbed against all the corners of her head, pulsing and beating like a drum. She grimaced and cringed.

“What's happening?” she croaked.

“There it is,” murmured Hans. “Someone – or something – has addled your mind.”

Anna blinked and looked up. Through the stabs of pain, she saw Hans extend a hand and turn it, as though he was turning an unseen doorknob. He rotated his wrist left and right several times while Anna stood in pain.

Then, suddenly, the pain vanished. Like a long-held sneeze, her mind cleared in a sudden burst and she fluttered her eyes in shock. Never before had she felt this good, never before had she felt this… this…

Her next breath came staggered, and appeared in a swift-condensing puff before her eyes.

“What did you just do?” asked Anna unsteadily, and she coughed.

“I removed a block from your mind,” said Hans “Something that was preventing you from seeing the truth. Now, I'll ask again: what happened the last time you and the queen met?”

“I... I don't know,” said Anna truthfully.

“I'll tell you. You won't like to hear it, but I'll tell you.” He walked across the fireplace and sat in a large chair on the other side. He looked balefully at the fire before turning his head back to Anna. “Please, sit. If you like.”

“No, thank you,” said Anna.

“Then I'll say my part.” He leaned forward in the chair. “The queen is a sorceress, through and through. A very powerful one. The blood of the Ice Queen runs in her more surer than in anyone, in any of her ancestors. She can move ice and snow as easily as common folk breathe. Not once, but twice, she inflicted you with a deadly curse, an icy blast, that would have killed you were it not for quick intervention. Think on it! Remember the lagoon? There, too, she cursed you. And, I suspect, she also worked magic on your memory to keep you from knowing about it afterward.”

He paused, his severe eyes narrowed into cold slits. Anna took a deep breath.

“How do you... how do I know this is the truth?” she asked carefully.

“You already know it is the truth,” Hans stated flatly. “You just refuse to see it. Remember the lagoon? You can't touch her skin without being cursed.”

Anna flexed her hands. She looked at them, at her gauntlets, usually the bright burnished color of gold but seeming now in the firelight to be dim and weak. “What is the curse?”

“You will die,” he responded quietly. He sighed. “Sooner or later, the curse will kill you. It rests dormant for now, but... your latest... encounter with the queen accelerated it.”

“How long have you known about this... curse?” asked Anna, still looking at her hands.

“From the beginning,” said Hans. “It was the queen's knowing. I suspected at first, but she confirmed it for me. She knew from the start that her touch could kill. And that is why she sought me out.”

He stood up and paced in front of the fire again. “I am a student of magic, though my power is to Elsa's as an ant's is to a mountain. Long have I studied it on my home island, mainly as an item of idle curiosity, you understand. Magic is elusive and strange, and ever defies the knowledge of man. But mainly I studied the ancient lore. The Golden Power being one such subject thereof.

“After the... storm... that destroyed my home, I was a castaway at sea, and through sheer luck was found by an Arendellit frigate. That is how you found me, if you recall. But when the queen saw me for who I was, I told her what I knew, and she realized my knowledge could help her. She was ever afraid of her own magic, and thus she sought out the Golden Power, thinking it could quell her instabilities.

“And that's where you came in. We had you find all the pieces for us, hoping that with all six we could reforge the Golden Power and bring balance to Elsa's magic...”

“But I never found the sixth piece,” interrupted Anna. “I... I failed...”

“Oh, yes.” Hans smiled. “We had already secured the sixth piece, you see. We sent you after it as a red herring. It was the queen's request: she wanted to reforge the Golden Power alone. And that was my mistake, abiding her.”

He turned away from the fire to look at Anna. The flames cast him as a silhouette, and with dark eyes he stared. “I was wrong about the queen. She did not want to contain her magic at all – rather, she used the Golden Power to _amplify_ her magic! And this is the storm you see, here,” he gestured at the windows, “this... this endless winter. And now she has locked herself up in the Tower of Arendelle, behind an icy door which not even the strongest of our men can destroy. And while she is up there, this entire country suffers at her hands! What are we to do, I ask you?”

Anna didn't know what to say. Hans was shaking with rage, his hands balled into fists. “Is there no way to break down the door?” she asked quietly.

“None,” he spat. He unrolled his fists and looked down. His features softened and he sighed loudly. “Well. There might be one way. But it is a legend, and you know how our luck has been with those.”

“Tell me.”

He stroked his chin. “According to the legends, according to Ser Hiccough's accounts, there was only one thing that could undo the Ice Queen's magic. And that was the magic blade – the one they call Wintersbane.”

Quiet. “So I suppose you want me to go find this sword?” asked Anna softly.

“Yes,” said Hans, and his eyes flashed with a shot of eagerness. He moved forward until he was in front of Anna, hands raised, beseeching. “It can only be you. You must find Wintersbane, bring it back, break down her icy door – and kill her.”

Anna felt that the air in the room had stilled, moving only for her own shallow, tentative breathing. Quietly, she said, “What?”

“It is the only way!” whispered Hans intently. He leaned forward. His eyes boiled with amber and gold and colors of warmth and hope and trust and earnest. “It must be done! You must find Wintersbane, bring it back, and kill Queen Elsa!”

A blank field filled Anna's mind. Find Wintersbane. Bring it back. Yes. She could do these. She almost felt as though she _must_. She had no choice. It made perfect sense. Find Wintersbane. Bring it back.

Kill Elsa.

“No.”

“I'm sorry?” Hans's brow furrowed slightly.

“No.”

He blinked and his eyes flashed green. “Did you hear me? I said, _find Wintersbane, bring it back, and kill Queen Elsa._ What part of that do you not understand?”

“No.”

Anna didn't know what it was, but she could only say no. She stared into Hans's blank, hateful eyes. “No,” she said again.

“What _is_ this?” he growled with sudden vehemence, pulling backwards. His gaze darted from side to side rapidly. “Why isn’t this working? It’s always worked before, but you… you… you have this strange _fixation_ on her _…_ I... I... cannot turn you against her…”

Anna blinked, and with sudden clarity she realized.

“You... _you_ were trying to use magic on me,” she accused. “Memory magic, I – I know – I felt it.”

Hans looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time, a barely concealed scowl shadowing his features. “You would. After all, you’ve been under its influence for _years._ I imagine your mind is happy to be free, now, free of the queen's control – ”

“You're _lying_ to me!” shouted Anna. A flurry of rage screamed through her. Through a haze of angry red, she spotted a red velvet chair, one of several in the solar. She ran to it and picked it up, heaving it over her head without the slightest effort, and throwing it against the opposite wall, where it splintered and cracked with a deafening noise.

“This is not a _game!”_ growled Anna. “You think you can just stand there and dole out your lies and I'll just take it? Not any more! I've faced down things such as would send you cowering! Now _tell me_ the _truth_ or so help me I will paint these walls with your blood!”

Anna's heart pounded ferociously, and she could feel – really _feel_ – waves of heat coming off of her sword. All the cold seemed to be gone. Hans spoke of killing the queen, and as Anna looked at him, she despised him with such hatred as she had never felt before. She wanted better than anything to grab him and crush his sku –

“This rage that burns in you... I have... never seen its like before.” Hans peered at her curiously, then dipped his chin. “You want the truth?” he asked coldly. “Is that what you really want?”

“I want you dead,” said Anna.

Hans flickered a smile. “You really do, don't you? I'll tell you the truth. I'll tell you what I've learned being the 13th  son and bastard-born of a king. I'll tell you what I've learned living in all but exile on a gods-forsaken rock in the middle of the ocean. I'll tell you what I've learned delving into tomes on the elements of nature most men would sooner forget.

“But first, tell me, Anna. What do _you_ think I want?”

“You want the kingdom,” said Anna. “You want it all for yourself. Don't you?”

Hans cracked a grin, ear-to-ear. “Close. I want the _queendom._ ”

Anna put her hand on her sword. “You better start making sense – ”

“Are you always this quick to act without even knowing what you're getting outraged about? I don't care about kings or titles. I want _power._ That is the one and only truth of this world, Anna. Those who have power, and those who don't. I suppose I should thank my father for sending me to Blackstone all those years ago. Believe me, for years I fumed and regarded my brothers with perfect jealousy. I wanted a kingdom of my own. I wanted to be King Hans. No greater fool was I than that. Did my father really run the kingdom? No... his men did. Power is an illusion that exists in the minds of people. Loyalty, money – bah! So, you see, I knew that true power came from controlling _people_... but... this was before I met Elsa.

“Yes, Elsa. Oh, she is a monarch. But Arendelle is huge, and has many vassals. Many lords and ladies who revolt at the first sign of displeasure. It is a miracle this patchwork nation has stayed together for so long. What power does a queen truly have in such a country? None, I thought, until I... I saw it...”

Hans's eyes glazed over, and became filled with awe. His jaw slacked and he cast his gaze up into the ceiling, where the fireplace lent the rafters long and fallow shadows.

“She came down to my cell on the day I was imprisoned. I had read of the Ice Queen's power, but that was the thing of legends, you know... nobody really believed in it. I had always wanted to meet an Arendelle, though... just to be sure... who could have known Queen Elsa would be the first to have her forebears' magic in over three-hundred years?

“She showed me the magic. I told her what I knew, and she asked for my help. The Golden Power... it grants the one who controls it a single wish. I hoped that she would wish for something... something foolish, something banal. She was so afraid of hurting people, of hurting _you_ , that I thought she would wish for her magic to vanish. And then, when she was helpless, I would take the Golden Power for myself, and with it all of her magic. And without her Protector, she could not hope to stop me. That's why I sent you to the North Mountain. Oh, I knew it wouldn't kill you, but I only needed a day, much less a week.”

“But it didn't work, did it?” said Anna “She wished for something else, didn't she? And now you can't get to the Golden Power? That's why you need me to get your 'legendary blade?'”

“I don't _need_ you to do anything!” spat Hans. “You are just a convenient catspaw. People fear you, little girl. You know why, don't you? You're not half a human. I, on the other hand – my magic is great. I was the one who took the sixth piece. I was the one who convinced Lord Myles that he was seeing ghosts in Lady Ysmir's plans. I was the one who convinced the Duke of Weselton to come to Arendelle. Do you think these small tasks? They are not. Rest assured, Ser Anna, I will find a way to break the queen's magic. The only thing that is uncertain is whether or not you will help me.”

Just then, Anna felt it. Felt little feelers, little... wisps of thought at the edge of her mind, snaking around the perimeter, searching for a way in. _Kill Elsa,_ they suggested. The fire blazed through her again. She repulsed all of them and they _burned._ She would not. Never. _Never!_

“Your magic won't work on me,” promised Anna. “You can't turn me against the queen. You can't because I... because I _love_ her!”

Hans barked with laughter, so sharply and so suddenly that Anna jumped. “Oh _yes, that's_ it. The power of love, yes. That must be it. That's what is protecting your feeble little mind from my attacks.”

“Well, what else can it be?” Anna blazed. Her face burned like a brand. “Or maybe your magic isn't as strong as you think it is?”

“ _My magic_ is perfectly strong,” snarled Hans. “I have worked this magic on far better than the likes of you for _years._ You don't really believe in love, do you? Not magic nor skill-at-arms nor any of countless other things that change the world – it's _love_ that protects you now? No, Anna. I have twisted minds that were so hopelessly in love that you could not imagine. I have watched men slay their loved ones and watch them die helpless in their arms. I have seen them kill themselves afterward. Love is nothing. It is a mere trick of the mind. No... no, love has no place here. It never has.

“Tell me, Anna, was it love that killed the wolf of the White Forest? Was it love that killed Ser Glenn? Was it love that stabbed the kraken through? Was it love that trapped the spirit of the Elderbarrow? Was it love that undid the magic of Chione? Was it love that let you part the spirit of the great King Andrew the Cold from this world? _No_ , it was not. It was _your_ power. It is great, make no mistake. You are a demon, a fiend, what is it the men called you – a whirlwind of steel and blade? When it comes to fighting, you have no equal in the kingdom, and possibly the world. But it is not _love_ that is to blame for any of this, except perhaps your follies.”

He stepped up to Anna and leaned close, his face knitted with malice. “Love... don't talk to me about love. Love, love, love – what a stupid word. No, Anna. No. It is not love, but _magic._ Someone has worked you through mightily... probably the queen – hah. And she told me she didn't know any magic like that. Yet look what she has. The perfect Lady Protector. Fiercely, unthinkingly protective of her charge. Incapable of betrayal. Come to think of it... that describes... a _lot_ of Lord Protectors, doesn't it?”

“Shut up!” cried Anna, stepping back. She gripped Autumn's hilt so hard it hurt. “Shut up! You're a traitor and you deserve a traitor's death! I love the queen and you will pay for what you did!”

“There we go! That's the rage! That's the hatred!” Hans grinned maniacally. “Direct it all at me, instead of the person who cursed you to die! That's that unthinking loyalty! A good knight! _A good Protector!”_

“The queen did _not_ curse me! It was you! It was you! She would never curse me!”

Hans cackled loudly. “No, no no, no! I can't take credit for _that! That_ was the queen. Oh-ho, rest assured, whatever else has been a lie, _that_ much is so. She has cursed you, and that curse will never rest, not until one of you lies dead. So don't be a fool, Anna. It's your life or hers. Will you kill her, or will you die? I already know the answer. But let's see if you can prove me wrong.”

In that moment, the flame within burned brighter, and a burning feeling spread all through her body. Calm. Certainty. “I will die.”

“You realize what you're saying?” barked Hans. “Death is not just a walk around the courtyard, Anna. It is the end. It is darkness, it is... it is... it is...” He trembled and grit his teeth, eyes bulging with frustrated panic. “It is oblivion. You realize that? Do you? And yet you _want_ to die?”

Anna looked Hans in the eyes. “It has nothing to do with what I want,” she said calmly. “We all die in the end.”

Hans pressed his lips into a cold line. “We’ll see about that.”

“Yes, we will,” said Anna, and quicker than a flash, Autumn was out of its sheathe, screaming. One quick slash, that's all she needed. Anna lunged forward, bringing Autumn’s blade down in a wide, slashing arc, aimed for Hans’s head.

Hans’s eyes followed the path of Anna’s sword dispassionately. Wordlessly, he held out his left hand and grabbed the oncoming blade, clutching it tightly around the edge. Anna struggled to pull the sword back, but his grip was unrelenting. She looked at his hand and saw no blood, no trace that he even felt the sharp edge of the sword.

Suddenly, the sword shattered. A piercing shriek ripped the air as steel slivers fell to the floor in a clanging patter. Anna gasped, and stumbled backwards. She looked at her right hand: all that remained of Autumn was the wooden hilt, the ruby in the pommel glinting faintly in the torchlight.

Hans laughed; a shrill, mocking noise. “Oh, _no!”_ he wailed. “I guess you just didn’t love Elsa hard enough. Right? Right? _**GUARDS!”**_

The doors to the chamber burst open. Two Royal Guardsmen rushed in, their black plate armor swallowing the flickering torchlight like inky puddles. “My Lord Regent! My Lady Protector! What happened?”

“Your Lady Protector just made an attempt on my life,” said Hans, nodding tersely at the two guardsmen. “See, there, the shattered remains of her sword, lying on the rushes. Just before, she admitted to kidnapping the Queen and spiriting away Her Royal Highness to rebel accomplices on the North Mountain.”

“ _ **LIAR!”**_ roared Anna.

“Traitor,” growled Hans. “Guards, seize the Lady Protector and take her to the dungeons.”

She felt hands grab her arms. “NO! You can’t do this!” she shrieked frantically. She pulled her right arm free and tried to turn on them. She punched one of the guards in the face, and heard the splintering sound of breaking bone. Two more guards ran in, and then Anna felt her strength leaving her, dimming with the fire in her chest. She began to feel cold, and weak, and she struggled, and struggled, but the grip of the guards was unrelenting. “Hit her,” she heard one of them say. She felt a sharp blow on the back of her head, and she knew no more.

 


	23. The Secrets of the Night

She awoke sprawled on cold stone, alone in the dark where all was quiet except for the howling of the wind like a thousand lost and lonely wolves. Faint slivers of orange light peeked between heavy iron bars and around the splintered edges of a heavy wooden door. The cell was dank and wet and smelled of cold mildew.

Anna breathed heavily. The ground was cold, and so was she. Her fingers and toes stung. Slowly, she sat up, and took her bearings. All her things were gone. She had only her tunic, her tights, her boots. She looked up – there was a window in her cell wall. It was too high for her to reach, and barred – but through it, she saw the clouds, the faint white flurries of snow.

She knew not how much time passed that she sat there, curled and shivering and gazing at the darkness beyond. She could not make out any details, but though she could not see it, she knew beyond the window lay the sky. The wind howled through the bars of the window and whistled.

The sound of her cell door opening made her turn. Her neck was stiff and aching. A warm light pushed through from the hall beyond, and spilled into her cell, casting a golden shadow, which held back the surrounding darkness with a marked assurance. A man walked in.

“Hello, Anna” said Hans.

Anna grit her teeth. They chattered. “Hans.”

“So, this is where you end up,” he said quietly. He moved out of the light to stand underneath the dark window. “Alone in the Arenborg dungeons, only the cold to keep you company.”

“What do you want?” growled Anna.

Hans turned around and smiled, his face barely visible. “I only wanted to thank you. It is, after all, thanks to you that I got this far. Isn’t it funny how all of your efforts for Elsa’s sake went to dooming her and helping me? And now the kingdom is mine. A small consolation, to be honest – but it’s something.” He chuckled.

Anna coughed heavily, eyes scrunching shut in pain. Afterward her breathing came shallow and ragged for several long moments before she swallowed and spoke. “Elsa is still alive.”

“That is a problem,” he admitted, quietly, with a nonchalant nod of the head, “but not as significant a one as I imagined, it would seem.” A look of calm wonder glided over his face and he stared back up at the window thoughtfully. Long moments passed.

Suddenly he spoke again, in a remote, quiet murmur. “A great power emanates from the tower… an energy. I can feel it move through me. It is only a… a fraction of her true strength, and yet in that fraction I can do so much.” For a brief moment, he turned his head, and his eyes met Anna’s. “Her magic is the only thing that can hurt you, isn’t that funny? Your countless mortal injuries… mere scratches to you. Yet one small touch, and you are completely laid to waste, helpless before her might. You might have overpowered me alone, but you are no match for the queen. Oh, her magic… it intoxicates me. She will have to die eventually, of course, but, for the nonce…” He trailed off, and stared out the window again.

“Oh, that reminds me.” He stepped away from the window and straightened himself up. In an instant, his expression changed from its previous darkened, vague gaze of wonder to one of quiet amusement. He stood so that he towered over Anna. “There was one other reason I came down here. It is the matter of what is to be done with you.”

“You’re going to kill me,” muttered Anna. “Aren’t you?”

“Essentially, yes. But it’s not really a killing. Think of it as… euthanasia. You’re dying anyway, thanks to your beloved queen. We’re simply… hurrying it along. A beheading is probably less painful than freezing to death. And, who knows? Maybe once we present your head to the Valkyrie, that’ll be enough for her to settle up.”

Anna laughed scornfully, a half-wheezing noise. “You’ll need to give her more than that,” she spat.

“Like Lord Myles, for instance?”

Anna’s head snapped up in disbelief. “Lord Myles? But… isn’t he your… friend?”

“All men are tools, Anna,” said Hans sweetly, “to be used and discarded as needed.”

“You’re a monster,” whispered Anna with a faint shudder.

“Ha-ha,” Hans laughed, kneeling down. “A _monster?_ You’re going to moralize at me when you’re the one in the cell? Yes, good for you, you’re such a pure and noble person. And for that, you get to die. And me, I get… well…” He raised his hands and extended his fingers in a wide flex. “Everything.”

He lowered his hands. “I see the way you look at me,” he sneered. “What makes you think you’re better than me? Your morals? Now, how do you square that with reality? As if all these so-called wicked, selfish men are naught but ignoble parasites who have forced themselves on the world. But the truth is, Anna, that’s all the world is. Men like me, playing the game. People will do whatever they want to advance themselves, because that’s all that people care about – themselves.”

“Y-You’re wrong.” Anna coughed and lifted her chin, fixing Hans with a steely gaze. “You’re wrong.”

Hans scowled and spat on the ground in front of Anna. “Love, yes? I suppose that’s the piece I’m missing, is it? This is the way of the world. Everyone knows it, Anna, everyone. Oh, sure, now and then they’ll make up rules for others to follow and call it ‘ethics’. But when you get down to brass tacks, nobody is really fooling themselves. We all care about ourselves first, because nobody wants to die. Everyone knows it. All the lords and ladies of the land, all the merchants and traders. The queen knew it, the duke knew it, my father knew it…”

He stopped for a moment and worked his jaw, brow furrowing in consternation. “You want to know the value of your love? I’ll tell you a story, one about how love will yield the reins to ambition every time. Once there was a king. He wielded great power in his kingdom, and he was the envy of courts around Europa. He had twelve strong sons to carry on his legacy, and one large piece of his demesne for each of them. All seemed wonderful for His Royal Majesty and His Most Noble House.

“But then, one night, a woman appeared and claimed that her son was the king’s. There was an uproar, and at last they brought the son forward, and then there was no doubt as to whose it was. And the king, who had long prided himself on his sense of honor, had no choice but to legitimize the child. And he did, but now he found his thirteenth son did not have a demesne of his own, and it yet stained his wife’s honor for a bastard to roam freely the halls of his castle. So he had the child packed and sent off to a rocky island in the middle of the ocean. And once the child was gone, his honor was restored, and quickly they forgot the bastard, and the king was once again revered and worshiped. I imagine,” Hans paused, and lowered his voice so that it was a throaty whisper, “that love meant a great deal to that child, didn’t it?”

Anna couldn’t help gaping. “That child…”

Hans leaned in closer and, for a mere moment, his look became earnest. “It isn’t too late, you foolish girl. You need not die for your murderer.”

Anna blinked, and she felt a tremor rumble through her heart. All at once the hatred rushed forth. She bared her teeth. “Fuck you.”

With wicked speed, Hans thrust out a hand and grabbed Anna’s jaw, jerking her head painfully. His eyes blazed with contempt. “There is one rule, Anna, just one rule: all that matters to us, is ourselves. There is nothing else.”

He shoved her jaw and stood, walking over to the door. “There was just one other thing. A parting gift for you.” He reached into a pocket in his cloak and pulled out a dull brown object. He threw it at Anna’s feet where it bounced with a clatter. It was Autumn’s hilt, and the ruby in the pommel was pale and dull. “I thought it might keep you company.” He stepped into the door threshold.

Anna stared helplessly at the broken hilt, an odd, hopeless anger filling her. She glowered up at him, trembling. A cough rose in her throat but she forced it back down. “You won’t get away with this,” she hissed.

“Oh, Anna,” said Hans, turning slightly in the door frame. He barely smiled. “I already have.”

The door closed and all was dark once more.

Anna slumped against the wall opposite the door, beneath the dark window, and stared unseeing at the orange glow coming through the barred door light. She found herself suddenly thinking about her breathing, and counted her breaths, and tried not to think about them, although she did anyway, and little tears pooled in the corners of her eyes.

She looked at the ground, and saw Autumn’s broken hilt, still lying forlornly on the ground. Carefully, as though it were a sleeping child, Anna picked it up and cradled it in her arms. She held it to her chest and kissed it, and when she could not hold the tears back any more, she tucked it into the back of her belt.

She sniffed and pulled her knees up to her face, and cried silently.

A short while later, the sound of commotion outside the door summoned her attention. Anna looked up and saw long thin shadows warble around the edges of the door light. Slowly, she rocked forward and crawled to the door; and with a great effort, hoisted herself up and leaned against the door to stare out through the light.

A woman was being brought down into the dungeons. Black-armored men led her between torch sconces. She looked frantic and tired, her blonde hair like an unruly mess of long, parched grass. She had a tiny nose.

Anna thought she recognized her, but she couldn’t place the name. Where had she seen her before? And why was she down here, in the dungeons?

“I told you, I had nothing to do with it!” sobbed the girl.

“That’s not what the Lord Regent says,” barked one of the men. He shook her violently as the other guard unlocked another cell door. Together, the two men shoved her in, and slammed the cell door shut behind her. “You have a week to confess, or it’s a traitor’s death for you,” he shouted in after her.

They turned in the direction of Anna’s cell, and instinctively Anna ducked out of view. Footsteps grew loud until they were outside her door, and the indistinct sound of conversation filtered in through the door cracks.

“This is the one with… _her_ in it, yes?”

“Yes. Beware – ”

“I believe I can handle a young girl just fine.”

“Not this one, you can’t. The Lord Regent says she bears the visage of a human girl, though she is no human, but a demon.”

“A demon?”

“Yes, sent from the frozen abscesses of hell itself to curse our fair kingdom. This one is but a harbinger.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Well, believe it or not – but beware all the same.”

There was a grunt and more shuffling footsteps, and shortly a distant banging echoed down the halls.

“What’s all this, then?”

Anna stood up again and peeked out the door light. Far down the hall, a door burst open, and a man with bright cyan hair ran through, shouting.

“What did you do with her? Where is she?” he yelled. It was Master Penrose, and his face was red. He was panting with exhaustion by the time he reached the two guards, who nevertheless had to restrain his arms.

“Where is who?”

“Olivia – th – the girl you brought down here…”

“Calm down, Master Penrose, please,” said one of the guards. “You understand we don’t want to lock her up. But she’s wanted for questioning.”

“Questioning? Questioning about what?”

“You know about what, Master. The disappearance in the night of the rebel bandit Martin and his fellow-travelers. Traitors, the lot of them, and disappeared right under the Lord Regent’s nose. We figure he had extensive help from those what remained behind in the castle.”

Master Penrose waved his hands exasperatedly. “W-Well, can’t you just _question_ her? There’s no need to lock her up! You let her go, or I’ll… I’ll…”

“Master, please. It’s the Lord Regent’s orders.”

With that, the redness left Master Penrose’s face, to be replaced by a sickly pallor. “Th – the Lord Regent…?”

“Aye, Master. You can go see him and come back and appeal.”

“On the ‘morrow,” said Master Penrose instantly. “I – I demand she be released on the ‘morrow. The Lord Regent will agree. He is… he can be reasonable…”

The guards relaxed their grips, and Master Penrose limply lowered his head. Gently, the guards turned him around and guided him to the exit of the dungeon, where they sent him out without another word. Slowly they walked back to their post.

“We’ll have to hang her tomorrow,” rumbled one of the guards.

The other one stopped. “Tomorrow? But the Lord Regent said…”

“I know what he said. He said to hang her if she don’t confess. I don’t know about you, but I don’t like the idea of that Court Wizard hanging around here any longer than is proper. You never know what kind of tricks they can pull.”

“Well we can’t hang her tomorrow, you git. You want to get on Master Penrose’s bad side, I can’t imagine a quicker way of doing so than that.”

“Then what do we do?” hissed the first guard, jabbing the other in the chest with a long finger. “You’re so smart, you come up with a solution.”

The other guard slapped his hand away and leaned forward. “We get a confession,” he growled bitingly.

They both turned in Anna’s direction again, and so she ducked again, heart pounding. Martin escaped? Of course he did, he had gone the moment Anna had knighted him – and a good thing, too. She was immeasurably relieved to hear something that confirmed he had escaped all right, and with a good retinue by the sounds of it. Maybe he could succeed where… but now Olivia was in trouble. _A_ _confession._ Anna had the sickening feeling that told she knew exactly what that meant. She bit the side of her lower lip and glanced at the door light. _If only I could do…_ _something._

 _You already did something,_ came another voice; and she buried her head in her hands.

Many hours later, when it seemed that the light from the window had become stronger, sharper, although only a little; when it seemed that day had broken over a world that could not see it, Anna heard the sound that sent a terrible chill down her spine.

The morning air was cold and empty as she stood up, wearily, and looked out her door. It was very dark, many of the candles had been extinguished, though she could make out gray shapes moving in a sea of blackness.

“Come on, come on,” came a gruff voice, and there was the sound of scraping and something being dragged.

“No, stop, what are you…?”

“Come with us. Stay quiet or you’ll regret it.”

“Where are you taking me?”

A wet slap like the sound of a cleaver flat whacking the edge of a haunch of meat. A shuddering, choking yelp echoed through the dungeons and there was another slap.

“I said stay quiet. We’re going to get answers out of you.”

Only a whimper returned, and the sounds of dragging resumed. They moved away from Anna’s cell and down another hall, eventually becoming lost in the heavy, ambient hum that had settled over Anna’s head.

When Anna thought that was the end of it, she sat down again.

And then she heard the scream.

It was clearly far away, too far away for Anna to help, but still the scream pierced through her, and rattled her eardrums as palpably as if the screamer was right next to her.

Silence fell harshly, and then after but a few moments’ reprieve, the scream sounded again.

Anna clapped her hands over her ears and bent her head down. She grit her teeth. Anything not to hear – but the screams kept coming. They echoed down the halls with such a vengeance Anna swore she could see the screamer in front of her, see Olivia, screaming in her face, screeching inhumanly, and still Anna curled up tighter. The screams felt meant for her, as if Olivia wanted _Anna_ to hear the screams, as if the entire world wanted her to hear the screams, as if every scream was the scream of a man or woman Anna herself had given pain, and the visceral horror built itself up into an image, an image of a woman without skin, without even blood, with nothing but dust and incredible age and death so, so certain.

After an eternity, the screams stopped. Distantly, dully, Anna thought she could hear faint whimpers, and perversely she found herself straining to hear them. At length, a sliding noise came down the hall as the men returned. Anna did not want to look, but she knew they were bringing her back. With great slowness, the sliding stopped; there was a faint thump, and the sound of a cell door slamming punctuated all other noise.

Anna’s breathing became normal again. A voice from outside her door broke the silence. “She’ll live. We got the confession. Now to tell the Lord Regent.”

“Hopefully the good Master abandons this rank foolishness when he learns that she’s a confessed traitor,” came another voice.

“Don’t count on it. Leastways this way we don’t have to wait on hanging her.”

The guards left again, and Anna was once more alone with her thoughts. The silence that enveloped her now was a new one, a fresh one, and she felt a fresh wave of anger directed at Lord Hans and all his men, one which crashed pointlessly on the walls of her cell.

The next day passed slowly, the room remaining cold and gray as outside howling winds were only slightly illuminated, and still the outside skies looked foreboding and spiritless, an atmosphere of desolation. Anna fixated her gaze on the slow-moving gray sheets of clouds, and watched the flurries salt the air thoroughly.

All the while, she thought of the torture Olivia had been put to. Though she tried, she could not quell the frustrated shakes that took her whenever she thought to imagine the screams again. That Hans would do such a thing burned her with indignation. She wanted more than anything for him to suffer, too, for him to pay – and yet, even more preeminent was a terrible thought that there would be no compensation for Hans’s deeds, that they would forever go unpaid. A small, dark voice spoke in the corners of her mind: _He rules the kingdom now._

Tremors ran through Anna. _He rules the kingdom now, and it is your fault._

She shook her head vigorously. _Damn him, damn him, damn him…_

Night came again and the cell darkened greatly. Once again, Anna was lost in the cold thin sheets of darkness, and sat shuddering at the edge of her cell. She felt a cough come on and gave it up, covering her mouth, and felt a thin splatter of warm liquid pepper her hand. Briefly, sourly, she wondered if this was what dying felt like.

When the night had advanced several hours, and Anna was dozing off in the corner of her cell, a small tapping sound disrupted her restfulness. Her eyelids fluttered, and she peered, though of course she could not see anything. The sound stopped for a moment, and then continued, a sort of uneven rat-tat-tat, with occasional clicks.

It was coming from the door. Anna moved forward onto her hands and knees, and crawled over to the base of the door, trying desperately to make out its outline in the heavy dark. The tapping sound was definitely louder now, and definitely coming from the door – from about midway up the door, in fact.

Suddenly the taps stopped, and a loud, solid click occurred. Several more clicking and grinding noises followed, and then a sound like a falling hammer. Slowly, amazingly, the door seemed to move, inwards – and then it really _was_ moving. Anna backed up in a hurry and the door swung past her to reveal Master Penrose, his face the color of milk, holding up a heavily shuttered lantern that only admitted the tiniest fraction of light. He held it up to illuminate her face, which had the effect of illuminating his as well: his hair was ghostly white, and by the lantern light, made him appear as some abominable wraith. But unmistakable in spite of his pallor was the spirit of anger, present in the thin of his lips and the sharp curve of his brow.

“Ser Anna,” he said hoarsely. “I owe you an apology.”

Anna worked her jaw for several moments, momentarily forgetting how to speak. She was extremely thirsty, and her throat scratched as she replied, “For what?”

“For not trusting you.”

Anna stared in disbelief. “Are you… getting me out of here?”

“Yes,” replied Penrose, with a furtive glance over his shoulder. “The guards should be busy for now. I’m getting you _and_ Olivia out of here. I’ve hidden your belongings in the cemetery, behind the king’s headstone.”

Anna stuttered, from anxiety or cold she knew not. “B-But Master Penrose, why…”

Penrose put a hand on Anna’s shoulder, and gave as firm a grip as his wiry hands would allow. He looked her in the eyes. “Because I know what they’re doing down here. I don’t know between you and Lord Hans who to trust on the facts alone, but I do know anyone who does… _that_ kind of thing is no man I want to partner with. So consider me in rebellion as of now.”

He allowed himself a slight smile, sincere although clearly pained. Carefully, Anna felt herself smile back, and a spark of courage kindled in her heart. “Okay. Let’s go.”

He helped her back to her feet, and when they were both sure Anna could walk without difficulty, he quickly turned and flitted down the corridor, Anna trailing behind. Anna found him pressed against what she knew as Olivia’s cell door. He put a finger across his lips to signify silence, and pulled out of a fold in his coat a long, thin metal tool, wiry and crooked, and inserted it into the keyhole of the cell door.

The tapping sound resumed, although this time Anna had something visual to match it to. “I knew I should have been suspicious of Hans from the start,” he whispered to Anna while he worked. “But for some reason, it seemed perfectly natural to me everything he was doing. And when it was suggested you might have had something to do with the queen’s disappearance, I didn’t even think twice about it.” A click. “And then I thought that you two were associates. But when he locked you up, and my Olivia soon after, everything fell into place.”

Carefully, he pushed the door open. “Now I’m ready to join the rebellion, never trust a man who –”

He paused and stared blankly into the dark cell room he had just opened. Anna could just about feel his breathing grow shallow.

The cell was empty.

“No,” he all but shouted, and his voice echoed along the dungeon walls. Startled, Anna raised her hands and tried to shush him, but he was not paying her any mind. “No! I thought this was her cell? Was the ledger wrong?” He stared at Anna with wild eyes. “Was this her cell?”

“Yes, or at least, I think so,” said Anna. “Please, be qui–”

“She’s in another cell,” Penrose announced, standing straight up and gritting his teeth. He looked up and down all the dungeon corridors wildly. “We must check every cell –”

Anna gaped. “We can’t… the guards will come back!”

“I’m not leaving without her!” Penrose snapped, jabbing a finger at Anna. Without another word, he spun and dashed to the nearest cell door on the opposite wall, peering through the door light and hissing Olivia’s name. There was no response, so he continued to the next. Anna trailed helplessly behind.

“Sydney,” said Anna tenderly, as he peered through another door light, “I don’t think she’s down here.”

“What?” he spun on her. “How do you know?”

“I don’t, I just…” Anna chewed the inside of her cheek. “I just don’t think she’s down here anymore.”

Penrose blinked. “Well, I have to be sure. If she’s not down here, then where is she?”

A blinding flash of light accompanied a sudden gust of force that lifted Anna off her feet and slammed her against the ground. She was dazed, and her eyes rolled as images circumscribed each other. For a moment, her hearing was gone, replaced by a sharp, persistent ringing noise; and then it faded away, and Anna blinked away the dots in her vision to behold the suddenly lit hallway.

It was Hans, his white cloak looking brilliant and clean in the torchlight, flanked by four black-armored guards – two with torches and two with pikes. The two with torches were also holding small, iron balls.

“Wood charcoal, brimstone, and saltpeter,” mused Hans with a sideways glance at the small iron balls. “More noise and flash than anything else right now,” he added in a bored tone, “but still rather clever.”

Roughly, the guards forced Anna and Master Penrose off the ground, and held them with arms locked in a tight pin. Anna could not even summon the strength to struggle.

Master Penrose, meanwhile, was squirming vigorously. “Damn it, how did you… Anna, do something!” He shot her a panicked glance. “Use your super strength! Y-Your sword-fighting skills! Fight them!”

Hans laughed, high and cold. “Oh, Master Penrose. I hate to break it to you, but our dear Ser Anna won’t be fighting anyone any time soon.”

Penrose looked back to Hans, and then his shoulders fell in a helpless slump. “All right. What do you want? Where is Olivia?”

“Now, now, you’re hardly in the position to be making demands, my good man.” Hans leaned low and smiled in Penrose’s face, putting a hand on his captive shoulder, which Penrose attempted vainly to jerk away from. Hans gave a short chuckle and straightened up. “But you were at least hitherto in the position to be committing treason. Well, I suppose that wench is to blame. Nothing puts a good man to rot faster than his woman. Luckily for both of us, we now have the truth of the matter, out of her own mouth. I was just questioning her myself in my solar.”

Penrose’s face went ghostly white. “Y-You were q-questioning her?” he stuttered, wide-eyed.

Hans gave an oily grin. “Oh, yes. And good timing, too, wouldn’t you agree? I was just about to give the order for her execution – ”

Penrose let out a strangled gasp. He struggled with renewed vigor. “NO! You can’t – ”

Hans nodded to one of the guards, and they hit Penrose in the back of the head. He spat and shook.

“Don’t interrupt me,” said Hans sternly. “As I was saying, I was just about to give the order for her execution. But seeing you go to so much effort to save her has changed everything.”

Penrose stopped shaking. He craned his head up, though he said nothing. He only stared with wide, empty eyes, silently pleading; the element of hope was but a distant flash behind his sunken pupils.

“It’s changed everything,” repeated Hans, leaning close again. His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Master Penrose, tell me, do you know the meaning of love?”

Penrose said nothing, staring back at Hans’s eyes in stark silence, his mouth slightly open. A bead of sweat formed on his forehead.

“Do you think,” Hans lowered his eyes, “that love is a warm feeling or a… a soft one? Do you think it’s all giddiness and charm?” His gaze twitched over to meet Anna’s. “It’s not.” His eyes twitched back to Penrose’s. He leaned in closer, and whispered into Penrose’s ear; Anna swore she could feel Hans’s breath on her own neck.

“It’s death,” he breathed.

He was standing straight up again, and waved a hand to one of the guards holding Anna. He stood half-wreathed in shadow with a dark, blank expression on his face. Anna felt the grip on her arms shift as the remaining guard hooked both his arms under hers. For a moment, the thought flashed in her mind to struggle, to escape; but she knew it was pointless.

The other guard walked down the hall and opened the door to the dungeons. As he did this, Hans spoke, his voice still low and dusty. “Master Penrose, you are a learned man. You have long researched the ways of the world. And yet, so much is still a mystery to you, as it is to all men. You think you love Olivia. You think that you would do anything for her, that you would never hurt her. Well.” He paused as the guard reappeared, holding Olivia under her arms. She grunted weakly as he shoved her forward to collapse in front of Master Penrose, who was still as a statue.

For a time, no sound was heard in the dungeon corridors, only the slightest implication of moving air, the flight of tiny, stunted breaths.

“Now’s your chance to prove it,” said Hans quietly. He drew a long, sharp dagger from his cloak and threw it at Penrose’s feet. “Kill her, or we kill you.”

The guards relaxed their grip on him, and he slumped to the ground, the dagger directly in front of his knees. He stared at it, completely still, his face like old marble.

He sat like that for half a minute before Hans, with a slight wrinkle in his nose, knelt down and put both hands on his knees, rocking forward on the balls of his feet. “Did you hear me, Master Penrose?” he mumbled. “All you need to do is kill her, and you get to live. Die, or live.” He glanced at Anna for a frigid moment. “The choice should be simple. So, will you kill her, or will you die?”

“Kill,” muttered Penrose.

For a second, Hans dared to smile – but it left as quickly as Penrose grabbed the knife, for no sooner than that he swung the knife at Hans. It missed by a clear mile, and Hans’s face devolved into apoplectic fury.

“Oh, you _stupid,_ ” he snarled, dodging the knife and replying with a punch to Penrose’s nose, spreading blood up and down his face. Hans kicked the knife out of his hand. It bounced against the walls and lay still in the shadows. “You just _have_ to play your little hero. Idiot.” Hans grabbed Penrose by his hair and yanked him to his feet. “You idiot. Fine. You think you’re going down a hero? Oh no, not if I can help it.” He barked at one of the guards. “Get the knife!”

A guard scrabbled to pick up the fallen knife as Hans, still holding Penrose’s hair, thrust his face forward so that his nose was barely inches from Penrose’s.

 _“Kill her,”_ he whispered.

Tentatively, the guard placed the knife in Penrose’s outstretched hand, and Hans let go and backed away.

Penrose stood there, trembling.

“N-No,” he gasped, and, slowly, Penrose began walking over to Olivia, knife held out. And Olivia lay crumpled on the ground. “N-No.”

He was crying as he knelt. He held Olivia’s head back to expose her neck.

Anna wanted not to watch, but she could not help it. She was transfixed, watching in horror as the blood spilled down her white, pale neck.

“See how powerful love is?” Hans was frowning deeply. “Not at all.” With a final glance at Anna, he turned away. “Take her to the oubliette. I don’t want anyone else getting the bright idea of trying to break her out.”

The guards seemed to hesitate. “But… my lord… there is no way out of the oubliette. How will we execute her?”

Hans shrugged carelessly. “Her queen has already executed her. Time just hasn’t caught up with her yet.”

The guards pulled Anna away from the scene, dragging her across the dungeon floor, and with a final look she saw Penrose folded over Olivia’s dead body, tears spilling to the ground, bloody dagger still clutched in his hand.

“Maybe the execution of Weselton will appease the crowds,” grumbled one of the guards.

“I’ll tell you what will appease them. Food and warmth. Hanging the Duke will bring neither,” growled the other.

“They’ll hang him anyway. The hanging of _this_ one would be valuable stuff…”

“Now, how do you reckon?” snapped the second. “The _people_ don’t know the truth that she’s a traitor.”

“Well, what better way to prove it than by hanging her all public-like?”

“You’re a moron. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were in cahoots with all them rebels.”

“Where do you get off with that rubbish?” said the first, suddenly sharp. “I’m no traitor!”

“I said if I didn’t know better,” said the second. “You’re too stupid to be a traitor.”

They stopped at the end of a long dark hallway. The two guards turned Anna around so that she was facing a wooden manhole in the ground, tucked away in a little slim-windowed alcove. One of the guards moved over to the manhole and pushed aside the bar, opening it with the whine of a hinge.

“All right, toss her in.”

With a heave, the guards threw her into the manhole. Her stomach lurched and she turned around mid-flight to land, hard, on her back, at the stone floor bottom of a pitch-black chamber. She lost her breath, and winced as she felt Autumn’s hilt dig into the small of her back.

Some fifteen feet above her, in the darkness, she heard the sound of the manhole closing.

 

* * *

 

How much time had passed in the dark, stale air of the oubliette was by all accounts impossible to tell. She lay in silence as the bruise from the fall dulled. Autumn’s hilt still dug into her back. With a grimace, Anna rolled to the side and pulled the hilt free. She clutched it in her hand.

What she had seen up there… Hans’s magic, she knew. He had done to Master Penrose what he had threatened to do to her.

But he couldn’t. He tried, but he failed to manipulate Anna like that.

_Because of love?_

_No,_ she realized with a shudder. _He loved Olivia, too._ Didn’t he? She supposed he must have, and yet it was no defense against… against…

_So Hans was right then. There’s something wrong with your mind._

There was no longer any doubting it. A part of her squirmed at it, tried to rebel against it, but what was the use? He was right. There was something awry with Anna. And she was dying, now, at Elsa’s hands.

She wanted to coil up, to stop thinking. She hummed to herself and she sat up, lowering her head. _Hmm, hmm, hmm,_ she hummed; but this time, the thoughts would not be kept at bay. And rather than think about her dying, she thought about all the ways she had failed – herself, the queen, and Elsa. What a fool she had been! She ought to have listened from the start, _questioned_ from the start – rather than take all that was said to her for granted. She ought to have questioned Hans, listened to Martin and Lord Hugoss and the rest. She shouldn’t have beheaded the Valkyrie. She should have demanded to read Ser Hiccough’s journal for herself – she could read, after all! – then she’d have known for herself why the queen wanted the Golden Power. She should have never rested until she knew the truth of it.

And yet, could she have done? The back of her neck crawled as she thought about it. Blocks in her mind, preventing her from seeing the truth… what if the queen…? No, she wouldn’t – but _what if?..._

_She wouldn’t._

But what if she would?

_Would you?_

Anna was taken aback by that. She gasped lightly. “Of course not,” she said aloud. Her voice was swallowed by the chamber walls.

_Why not?_

“Because I love her.”

_Do you?_

Did she? “I don’t know.”

_Think about it. Why do you love her?_

How could she answer that? She didn’t even know if she loved her. She _thought_ she did, and the reason then was because…

“Her voice,” said Anna thickly. “It’s so beautiful. So soft and sweet, and… and you can really tell it’d be amazing if she sang. But there’s strength in it, too, like she can give orders and hold her own in court. I always loved hearing her speak. And she’s really sweet, and her eyes are so pretty, and her hair, and… and she looks amazing in a dress, and…”

_These are reasons to love someone?_

“Well, no,” said Anna defensively, blinking in confusion. “Not by themselves, I suppose…”

 _Then why?_ _Why wouldn’t you hurt her?_

Anna stared at the black. “Because she wouldn’t hurt me.”

_But she did._

“Maybe,” said Anna slowly. “But I… I don’t think she meant to. I just… I know she would never hurt me or anyone else on purpose. You weren’t there, you didn’t see the way she acted when someone came asking her council. When I met her for the first time, she spoke to me so kindly, I knew I was… I was safe.”

Anna’s words disappeared into the void and all was still for long moments before the reply came, small and careful. _I was there,_ said the voice.

For the first time, Anna realized she had been speaking to herself. She blinked and strained her eyes, looking around, though inwardly she knew it was futile, still she strove to see. “Who’s there?” she asked, slightly panicked. “Show yourself!”

Then, strangely, a light appeared. Anna narrowed her eyes and peered, but she could not quite see where it was coming from. A simple gray glow was illuminating the ground around her. Then, suddenly, she saw: the ruby in Autumn’s hilt was pulsing with a faint, cold glow.

Anna held the hilt up in front of her face, and still the ruby continued to glow for several seconds more, before it extinguished itself and all was dark again.

And then, she appeared, swathed in a thin, pale light. A young woman, she couldn’t have been older than eighteen or so, with long, white hair and a long, flowing white dress, all translucent in the dim, odd glow. She was short; shorter than Anna, and her eyes glowed with pale blue spots.

“Hello, Anna,” said the apparition. “It’s a pleasure to finally get to talk to you face to face.”

Anna’s heart rate was rapid. “Wh-Who are you?”

The apparition chuckled lightly, and covered her mouth with a hand as she did. “I am a friend. One you already know rather well. What was the name you gave me – Autumn?” She dropped her hand and her smile grew wider.

“Autumn?” echoed Anna. “You’re my… my sword?”

“I was, but, well…” She looked down at the broken hilt, still in Anna’s hands. “One thing I don’t think Hans realized fully was what breaking me would do to the magic inside.”

“I don’t understand,” said Anna, staring at the apparition. “If… if _you’re_ Autumn… then… then how come we’ve never talked before?”

“We have,” said the apparition. “Just not so plainly.”

And then suddenly Anna remembered – the memory flooded in like a flash rain. “I remember,” she said slowly. “I remember… hearing things. At the time, I didn’t know what they were, I didn’t even _think_ about them, but thinking back now… I remember, it seemed like, sometimes, my sword – erm, you, I suppose – was… _talking_ to me.”

The apparition smiled faintly. “That’s right.”

Anna looked at the apparition with a new sense of understanding. “What happened? How are you – wait, _who_ are you – ?”

“In good time,” said the apparition. “Come.” She floated backwards, the glow following as she did, illuminating the wall of the oubliette. “It’s time you broke us out of here.”

Anna felt perplexed by this. “Broke us out…? But how?”

“Use your magic, of course.”

“Magic…? You mean, bombos?” Anna shook her head. “But I don’t have any of my sigils, and I probably couldn’t carve a very good one in here, like this…”

“Don’t worry about that,” said the apparition, waving a hand. “Just come over here.”

Anna pushed herself to her feet, and limped over to the wall, next to the apparition. She still felt sick, and weak, and cold – it was all she could do to follow.

“Look at this wall,” murmured the apparition. “Look at the shapes and lines formed by the flagstones, how they all merge and come together to form other shapes. All the lines in all the world are like that. If you look closely, you can see anything.” The corner of her lips tugged up slightly. “True magic is seeing the world in everything, and everything in the world.”

Anna stared blankly at the wall. “I don’t get it.”

“The sigil you learned was just a shape. There is no magic in mere shapes. The letter ‘A’, alone in the wilderness, is intelligible to no one, and means nothing. But the letter ‘A’ in a book is a _letter._ There is no magic in shapes _themselves_ , my dear Anna, but in _seeing_ _them._ ”

The apparition put a ghostly hand on the wall, tracing her slender, white fingers along the cracks and edges of the stones there. “There. Do you see, now? Your sigil was in the wall all along.”

Anna looked closer, and, to her enormous surprise, although she did not know if she was imagining it, she thought she could see the bombos sigil in the wall, as if carved into the wall itself, like it was part of the wall as much as all the mortar between the bricks. “I… I see it…”

“Now say the word,” said the apparition with a smile.

_“Bombos.”_

In a flash, a splitting crack pierced the air, and the wall sundered and collapsed like wet sand. It came down in a crumble and the feeling of wind hit Anna before she knew what she was looking at: snow.

She was free.

The apparition glided out into the night air, and the biting wind subsided ever so slightly as it did, nipping at Anna’s sides with… restraint. To her surprise, she even felt warm.

“Are you…?”

“I am doing nothing,” said the apparition, and it kept gliding. “Come with me. We must go before they know you are missing.”

Anna nodded, and a wind filled her chest. In the next moment she was running through the snow, sucking stinging breaths into burning lungs as her boots threw waves of white behind her. The storm was so thick that it was difficult to see far, but the mere presence of the apparition seemed to push back the boundaries of her vision, and revealed the path before her. The oubliette, she realized, must be located at the base of the outer wall; a quick glance to her left revealed the edges of the fjord, once a bright blue, deep and sparkling and crystalline water, and now frozen solid.

She had been sprinting for a solid minute when she stopped and, panting, knelt over and tried to regain her breath. Her lungs spiked with every intake of the frigid air.

“Look at that,” murmured the apparition, and Anna pulled her head up.

Ahead, she saw two children playing in the snow.

“H-Hey, stop that!” Anna yelled hoarsely, straightening up and stumbling towards the playing children.

“Shush,” said the apparition. “They can’t hear you.”

Anna gave the apparition a dubious look. “What?”

“They can only speak to you,” said the apparition, and her eyes flashed. “The night has many secrets for those who wait and listen.”

Anna blinked and looked back at the children. They were closer, now. One of them had shimmering, silvery blonde hair, tied into a braid; and the other had bright red hair, also braided.

The blonde girl was building a snowman. She put the finishing touches on it and spun it around to face the red-haired girl.

“Hi, I’m Olaf!” said the blonde girl, wiggling the twig arms of the snowman, affecting a comical, deep voice. “And I like warm hugs!”

“I love you, Olaf,” said Anna and the red-haired girl in unison, and the little girl ran to embrace the snowman.

In the next moment, the girls and the snowman were gone, and a buzz slashed through Anna’s head.

Anna blinked in consternation. She felt light-headed, and out of balance.

“What was that?” she said meekly.

The apparition cocked her head. “I think the night has something to say to you.”

Anna looked ahead as the apparition continued to float on. She followed, unbidden.

Now the landscape seemed to change. Out of the snow and the powdery winds, walls and furniture seemed to form, and a huge triangular window, and a huge bed, in which slept a lump.

The girl with red hair ran into the room, and leapt onto the bed. “Elsa, wake up, wake up, wake up!”

“Anna, go back to sleep,” groaned the blonde-haired lump in the bed.

“I can’t,” rejoined the red-haired girl.

“The sky’s awake, so I’m awake, so let’s go play,” said Anna.

Anna blinked. The room shifted, changed, and became an enormous ballroom with walls of white wind and a floor of pristine snow.

And Anna saw her own young self standing next to the blonde-haired girl. Lost snowflakes fell through the vision, and Anna approached the two girls, frozen in time. There was no mistaking it. She was wearing a green dress, but it was not difficult to imagine a grass skirt instead. Anna held out a tentative hand.

“Is that… me?”

“It is,” said the apparition quietly. “That is you as you were before the change.”

“The change?” repeated Anna, and a murmur whispered through her heart.

As she spoke, the two girls began to move and run around, laughing and smiling. “Do the magic!” squeaked the younger Anna. “Do the magic!”

The blonde girl lifted her hands and, making short twitches and motions with her fingers, conjured a swirling ball of white and blue. She lifted her arms, and it shot up to pepper the sky with sparkles of falling snow.

The red-haired girl laughed and stopped, looking up and admiring the falling snow with infinite wonder in her blue eyes. They reflected the snowflakes like stars on a nigh-evening sky.

“That’s so amazing,” said the younger Anna with awe. She turned to look at the blonde girl. “You’re amazing, Elsa.”

Elsa. The blonde girl was Elsa. The buzzing whine in Anna’s head grew stronger.

The younger Elsa gave the red-haired girl a fond smile. “You’re the best younger sister a girl could ask for,” she said demurely.

“I am, aren’t I?” said the younger Anna, jutting out her chin and trying to look impressive. She quickly broke down into giggles, and then laughs, which Elsa shared.

When the laughter died away, the younger Elsa grinned and her eyes gave a mischievous gleam. “Hey, let’s forget the snowman this time. Do you want to play the jumping game?”

Anna’s eyes, too, lit up, and she clapped her hands together. “Really? Do you mean it?”

“Yeah! What’s the worst that could happen?”

The red-haired girl jumped up and down in anticipation, and, at a gesture from Elsa, ran a short distance away to jump on a suddenly rising pillar of snow. Another pillar, slightly taller, rose half a foot away from that one; and then another, and another; and the younger Anna jumped to each one in succession, going faster as she did. Higher and higher the pillars rose, the air swooping with young laughs of joy, and even Anna felt a smile cross her face.

“Wait, slow down!” came the cry, but the wind swallowed it. The next pillar crumbled, and a blast of ice rocketed through the air in a wild, arcing trajectory, striking the young Anna in the heart.

She did not scream, or whimper, or even moan. She became silent as the grave, and fell to the ground in a puff of snow.

“No, no, no no no!” cringed Elsa, dashing to the fallen child. She threw her tiny arms around her. “Please, no! I’ve got you! You’re safe now! You’re safe now!”

A ripple of wind swept the landscape, and they were gone. Anna’s head buzzed again.

“I don’t understand,” she said at last. “Was that… me? A younger version of me?”

“It was,” confirmed the apparition, and the swirling winds parted, revealing a number of gray stone monoliths sunk into the snow and earth. “Here we are.”

Anna moved between the monoliths, the wind at her back. The gust seemed to tug at the fringes of her tunic and play with her hair, pushing her further into the cemetery. “This is the Royal Cemetery?”

The apparition nodded, and floated a little bit ahead, to pause, hovering, before a squat, glowing headstone, with a snowflake inscribed in the base. With uneasy trepidation, Anna approached it, and read:

_ANNA ARENDELLE, 303 – 308 etter etableringen av Arendelle, 1421 – 1426 Sørlige kalender_

Her heart all but stopped. “I… I…”

“This is yours,” said the apparition, and its voice softened suddenly. “But you were never buried here.”

Then they were surrounded by people, all dressed in black cloaks and coats, with chins lowered to their chests, staring somberly at the glowing headstone. Anna whirled and saw the Young King, and his queen, Queen Ideen – she knew it must be them, somehow she recognized them, as if she had seen them in a dream. Their heads were bowed. And between them was Princess Elsa, staring intently at the headstone.

One by one, the mourners left, until only the Royal Family remained; and they, too, the king and queen, left with final sobs.

Elsa stayed behind, staring, staring, staring, until she vanished, and the headstone stopped glowing, and then it was merely one of several in a field of like.

“What happened?” said Anna, voice trembling. “Am I really Elsa’s… sister? And they all really think I’m dead? But how did I – no, I was raised by the trolls. And I’ve never heard anybody talk about a second princess, I…”

“It’s all true,” said the apparition calmly. “Be patient. The answers will make themselves clear. We have a long way to travel first.” The apparition floated a short distance away to hover beside an enormous monolith – one Anna recognized. “The king’s tombstone,” said the apparition. Behind it, Anna spied a pile of rubbish, half-buried in the snow, and she sprinted for it. Kneeling, she knocked away the loose snowdrifts, and found, to her great surprise, all of her belongings neatly hidden away. Her bow, her arrows, the pendant, the gauntlets, the boomerang, even some of her bark shards with the sigils carved into them… and Saria’s flute.

It was only then that she realized, with a yelp, that she had left Autumn’s hilt behind.

“We have to go back! For the hilt! For, er,” she cast an uneasy glance at the apparition, “ _your_ hilt!”

The apparition smiled and even chuckled. “It is just a hilt. There are thousands of them.”

“Not like _that_ one!” protested Anna.

“One hunk of steel is much like another. Why shouldn’t it be?”

Anna gaped in disbelief and the apparition smirked wider. In an instant, her smile fell and she whirled away. “Come. There is no time.”

Blinking, Anna scooped up her belongings, clipping them to her belt and slinging them around her back. Finally she put the gauntlets on and hurried after the apparition.

They moved to another stone monolith, this one much bigger than any of the others – the biggest in the cemetery by far. It was almost as large, Anna noted, as the stone boulder at the end of the Springway.

“Here we are,” said the apparition. “Would you kindly read the inscription on the boulder for me?”

Anna looked and read aloud:

_Here be the final resting place of the First King. May he find in death the peace he never knew in life._

She did a double-take.

“What? But I thought… I thought the First King’s gravestone was at the end of the Springway.”

“Andrew never knew how to settle for less than he could take,” said the apparition with a wan smile. She lifted up a hand and stroked the boulder. “Anna, do you remember when Elsa taught you a song?”

“Yes?” said Anna, raising an eyebrow at the apparition.

“Would you play it, please?”

Confused, Anna took out Saria’s flute and, closing her eyes, played the melody that Elsa had taught her – the melody of the Royal Family, she had called it.

When the last note touched the air, the world trembled.

The letters carved into the boulder glowed and pulsed, and the apparition said, “Put your hand on the boulder, please.”

Anna did as she was told, placing a careful, gloved hand on the boulder’s face, and then darkness surrounded her, whirling and spinning, and suddenly she was standing on solid ground again, like she had just alighted after a long and dizzying flight. Her hand was still on the stone – no, _a_ stone. A boulder. She looked around.

They were at the end of the Springway. To the north, the North Mountain towered impressively, and to the west, the trees of the Rockwood stood green and white in a thick blanket of snow.

“Ley-lines,” said Anna in awe.

“That’s right,” said the apparition, gazing at the tree-line. “This is a good place,” it continued, “you have friends in these woods.”

“The trolls,” agreed Anna, nodding.

“No,” said the apparition, “no, the trolls are your family. I said you have _friends._ ”

Anna looked bewildered at the apparition, and she continued, “Do you know the difference between friends and family, Anna?” The apparition leaned closer. “We choose our friends.”

A silver streak erupted out of the forest, moving with unearthly speed towards them. Anna’s heart leapt, and she reached for her – no, not sword – boomerang, bow? But before she had made a decision, the streak was upon them, and standing quite still.

It was a doe. A shining doe, with short stubby antlers. It was not truly glowing, but its fur was a beautiful shining gray sheen, accentuated by small white spots, and it seemed truly radiant in the reflected moonlight of the snow.

“This one says you saved it from a bear,” murmured the apparition. “And it would like to repay the favor.”

“A bear…?” Anna gasped as she recognized the doe – it had been a fawn, then, and much smaller, but now it was a doe, a strong, _living_ doe.

Anna approached the doe carefully. It lowered its head as she approached.

“It wants you to ride it,” said the apparition. “We have old friends to visit, and little time to visit them.”

Anna nodded, and went to the doe’s side. It went down on its knees to help her up, and just as she had a seat on the doe’s back, it bolted into the forest, again with impossible speed. They hit the tree line like a wave hits the shore, and darted between trees, running, jumping, dashing up and down short and high rises. The doe’s feet barely touched the ground – in fact, Anna seriously doubted they ever even once touched the ground.

They slowed to a halt in a wide, low clearing, with a rocky, gravel-covered snowy floor, devoid of trees. It was not snowing here. Above, through gaps in the clouds, stars peeked out like mists of dandelion seeds.

Anna dismounted the doe when she was sure it would move no more. The moment her feet hit the ground, the doe bounded into the woods, and became lost from sight.

“Anna?” came a voice.

Anna turned, and saw the Wise Troll emerge from the trees, his face drawn and startled. “Anna, what are you doing here?”

“She is bearing witness to her creation,” said the apparition, gliding between Anna and the troll.

He furrowed his brow and gave her a funny look. “Who are you?”

The apparition only smiled by way of response, and waved a hand. Suddenly, the sky was clear, and the ground was free of snow. Two horses broke into the clearing, each one ridden by two. They dropped from their mounts together, the Young King and his queen, accompanied by the young Elsa, too, with tears in her eyes. And in the king’s arms was Anna.

“Please, help!”

From all around the woods, trolls rolled into the clearing, and stood before the king. “It’s the king!” they exclaimed in awe.

“My daughter,” said the king, his voice catching in his throat. “Please, help…”

“Stand aside.” The Wise Troll rolled into the clearing, too, and approached the king with a faint scowl on his face. “What has happened?”

“She’s been hurt, injured. It was a mistake, an accident, but I fear…” The king cleared his throat and held the young Anna out with trembling arms.

“Touched,” said the Wise Troll gravely, and the other trolls nodded grimly. “In the heart… this is very grave. If it were her head, I could merely erase her memories – but the heart is not so easily changed.”

“What must I do?” pleaded the king.

The Wise Troll worked his jaw and stared. “There is only one thing that we can do. You, girl,” he pointed at Elsa, “come here.”

“Her name is Elsa,” added the king helpfully, “and this is Anna.”

The Wise Troll nodded, and Elsa walked to him carefully. “You have been on the road a long while, no? It has been a week since the incident?”

“More or less,” said the king with a heavy frown. “I… We tried to make all due haste.”

The Wise Troll nodded again. “Elsa, can you do the magic for me?”

Elsa nodded, and held out a trembling hand. She flexed it, and a crisp sparkle of ice filled the air.

“Hm,” said the Wise Troll, furrowing his brow in thought. “Just as I thought. You can control it, but…” He seized Elsa’s wrist and pulled her hand to Anna’s body. Elsa yelped and a spark of ice painted the ground beneath her feet. Slipping on it, she fell backwards, and a second splotch of ice froze the rocks where she landed.

“What is the meaning of this?” snapped the king.

“Her magic reacts uniquely to Anna,” observed the Wise Troll. “Has she always been able to cast ice?”

“Never like this,” said the king with a slight note of hesitation. “What are you…?”

“I can save Anna, but there is only one way to do it. She must be removed, separated from Elsa. Her magic will diminish over time in the absence of her sister, and Anna can live with a frozen heart. If anything, she may even be haler, healthier, so long as she and Elsa are kept apart.”

The king gaped in disbelief. “Surely there’s another way…?”

“It’s either this,” said the Wise Troll, “or you let come what may.”

The king looked down at Anna, still cradled in his arms. “No,” he said after a long pause. “We’ll do what we must.”

“Please, no!” shouted Elsa, running up to him. “Please! I’m sorry! I’ll never cast magic again! I’m sorry!” She was sobbing now, tears streaming down her face. “Please!”

The Wise Troll held out his arms. The king stared, blankly, at nothing. He turned around and looked at the queen, who met his gaze and turned away, a faint shimmer in her eyes. And then he turned back, and, slowly, handed Anna over to the troll’s grasp. He stood up unsteadily.

“Please, Father, no!” sobbed Elsa, and she buried her face into his hip. “Please, I’ll be good, I’m sorry…”

“It isn’t your fault, sweetie,” said the king, kneeling down and hugging her. “It isn’t your fault.”

Other trolls came and took Anna away. The Wise Troll issued a few terse orders to them, and they nodded and carried her off. Then he turned back to the king.

“We will take good care of her.”

The king stood again, and Elsa and Ideen fell into each others’ arms, crying. “Please do,” he croaked.

The Wise Troll looked between the king, and Elsa, and Ideen, and reached into a pocket in his skirt. He held out a tiny mushroom, purple with white splotches on the cap. “Take this, Your Grace. It is a glemmeg sopp, a very rare toadstool from the Lost Woods.”

“Glemmeg sopp,” repeated the king, his eyes narrowing. “Does it…?”

“Yes, Your Grace, though a word of caution: there is no cure in all the sorceries of man or troll. If you find the pain unbearable…”

“Never,” said the king darkly, and his hand twitched. He looked at the mushroom. In a flash, he reached out and grabbed it, and stuffed it into a pocket in his coat.

“You will want to find a human witch to brew it for you,” advised the Wise Troll, and he turned away.

The king turned away also, to look with a gnarled brow at his crying daughter. He sighed heavily. “Elsa, come on.”

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, and the scene changed with the thundering of horse hooves.

Now they were in the queen’s solar – Elsa’s solar. But it was different, differently adorned, decorated. There were maps on the walls and over the fireplace hung a crossed sword and axe. And before the fireplace, raging with flames, stood the king again, an iron band on his head. He was holding a small glass vial in front of his face, stopped with a cork, and examining the viscous, purple liquid within.

“And you are certain you can trust this concoction, my liege?” said a man, standing beside the king; a man Anna recognized by his silver hair and finely chiseled jaw as Lord Erik Ulfton, the old Lord Protector.

“Not quite certain,” sighed the king, lowering the bottle. “But it was brewed by a witch living somewhere in the city. Her name was _Syrup,_ if you can imagine such a foolish name. But I do not think she would cheat me. Something Mother always told me was that a witch’s honor was worth her weight in blood.”

“Do witches even have blood?”

The king gave Lord Erik a shrewd look. “My daughter does.”

Lord Erik nodded. “As you say. And you say this is for the best?”

The king lowered his eyes. “I do believe so, yes. I have not slept in months. Ideen is wracked by nightmares. And Elsa… the poor girl… she is the very picture of guilt. This is my chance to wipe the tears away.”

“If you forget, it will be like she had never lived at all,” said Lord Erik cautiously.

“You think I don’t know that?” said the king sharply, eyes blazing at Lord Erik. “You think I don’t know what this means? Of course I do. But I see no other way. I can never see her again, and I can’t risk… I can’t risk the knowledge. And besides, one drink and I… there will be no more doubts. A wound, still, but one that won’t fill us with regrets. She will be dead, and we… can move on.”

“As you say, my king.”

The king nodded his head tersely. “All right. Call Elsa in.”

Lord Erik opened the solar door to reveal Elsa standing alone in the hallway, her eyes downcast and expression modest and forlorn. She entered the solar.

The king poured two glasses of wine, and emptied a few drops from the stopped bottle into each. They steamed on contact with the wine.

“Elsa, it’s time for what we discussed.”

“No,” said Elsa at once. “I won’t drink it.” She glared fiercely at the king. “I won’t drink it, Father.”

“Elsa, you _must._ It’s for her own good.”

“No, I don’t want to.”

“Do you think it _matters_ what you want?” roared the king, suddenly furious. “Do as I say!” He lifted one of the goblets and thrust it at Elsa. “Drink it!”

“NO!” yelled Elsa, and she slapped the goblet out of his hand. It spilled and rolled around on the rushes.

For a second, Anna thought the king might explode. But suddenly, he relaxed. He bent over, picked up the goblet, and poured another cup of wine, and a few more droplets from the bottle. He set the goblet down on the table, and walked brusquely past Elsa to the solar door, wine flask and bottle in hand.

“Make sure she drinks it,” he said to Lord Erik. “That is a direct order. I don’t care if you have to force it down her throat. Once you are finished, drink the other goblet yourself, and report to Ideen and I. Not one of us will remember this, so swear to me on your honor that you will do as I command.”

Lord Erik lowered his chin. “I swear it.”

The king nodded, and left the solar.

Lord Erik and Elsa stared at each other. Slowly, Lord Erik approached the table and picked up one of the goblets.

Elsa’s eyes blazed defiance. “I won’t drink it. I would rather die.” Tears speckled her eyes suddenly. “How can you let this happen? How can you just let us forget that she’s… that she’s out there, and _alive_ , and…”

Lord Erik threw the goblet into the fire.

Elsa froze mid-sentence, and stared, jaw agape.

Lord Erik picked up the other goblet and threw that one, too, into the flames.

“When I took the oath of Lord Protector,” said Lord Erik slowly, “I promised to serve the Royal Family and do all that I was commanded. May the gods mark me an oath breaker and rend my honor to tatters, but I won’t forsake Princess Anna.” He turned and knelt down to clasp Elsa’s hands in his own. He stared at her with watery eyes. “You have my word, Princess Elsa, that I will never forget Princess Anna, and someday, I will see that she is restored to her birthright.”

A phantom of fear filled Elsa’s face. “But… but… my magic, she…”

Lord Erik shook his head. “You have many years to learn to control it – ”

“No,” said Elsa, “my magic, I… I haven’t been able to… to… since she… since she left…”

Lord Erik nodded in understanding. “Then, by your leave. Nobody knows about it, and nobody shall know about it – not until you want them to.”

The solar faded away, and they were back in the troll clearing. The Wise Troll’s face was long and somber. The apparition had folded her arms.

“Where is it, Pabbie?”

The Wise Troll looked up, shocked. “How do you know my name?”

The apparition only stared, and the Wise Troll’s eyes widened and widened.

“…It’s you,” he whispered.

“Where is it?” repeated the apparition.

The Wise Troll lifted a trembling finger and pointed deeper into the snowy wood, towards the bottom of a gentle slope. “We have… we have kept it safe, just as he asked…”

“Good,” said the apparition. “We will go now and make it un-safe.”

The Wise Troll watched, jaw hanging, as Anna and the apparition proceeded into the trees again.

“Anna,” he called after them. Anna turned. “I’m sorry.”

Anna didn’t know what to say. _Sorry for what?_ She turned wordlessly back to the woods and continued after the apparition. They went down the slope, and a number of boulders and trees, mashed together, greeted them.

The apparition stopped and hovered silently before the rocks. Anna cleared her throat. “So my heart is frozen?” she asked, her voice cracking. "I… I’ve been made to forget about… about everything, and that’s what’s wrong with my memory? That’s why I can’t just… just… _think_ it all out? So Hans was right?”

“Hans was wrong,” said the apparition.

“Then what’s wrong with me?” asked Anna quietly.

The apparition turned to look at her. “Nothing is wrong with you.”

The world changed around them again. There was Elsa, much younger than she had ever been before. She couldn’t have been more than three. She was sitting in her huge triangular window, admiring the stars and skies outside. Her breaths fogged the air. Sitting beside her was Ideen, her mother, smiling with her at the beautiful winter sky.

“Never in the history of the Royal Family,” said the apparition, “has a second child been born. But also never in the history of the Royal Family has there been a child with magic like mine.”

A shooting star flew through the air. “Oh!” said Ideen suddenly, with a voice like wind chimes. “Oh! A shooting star! Quick, Elsa, make a wish!”

“A wish?” asked Elsa, befuddled. “What’s a wish?”

“A wish is something you want to come true!” said Ideen with a grin. “Go on, wish for anything you’d like!”

“I wish I had someone to play with!” said Elsa instantly. “Like cousin Hans and all his brothers!”

Ideen laughed. “You can’t make your wish out loud! You have to wish in your head, or it won’t come true!”

Elsa nodded stoically and closed her eyes, pressing her hands tightly together as she bowed her head at the night sky. She opened them again and smiled. “Okay! I did it!” And Anna was among the rocks and trees again.

“She wished for a sister,” explained the apparition. “And Elsa was born three-hundred years after I was killed by her ancestor. She had, within her, part of the magic that had been in me, and the universe responds to that kind of power, Anna. You were born that next year, sent to her by her magic.”

Anna stared at her hands. “So, I’m not really her sister, then.”

“You are her sister,” said the apparition. “You are also her guardian angel. And she loved you more than anything else. Though she did not know it, from you she learned the language of the universe. See this?”

The rocks and trees slowly began to move by themselves, shifting and repositioning themselves until they formed a grand archway, a majestic door of carved stone, with an arch above it inscribed with lettering.

“Read it.”

Anna did.

_“The Sanctum of Winter’s End.”_

“I don’t get it,” said Anna.

“You can read it, can’t you?” said the apparition. “Who taught you to read?”

“I… don’t know.”

“But you can read these letters. You don’t know how, but they make sense to you, and from them you tease a meaning beyond what is simply in lines and curves. Do you remember what I told you about letters? They exist all around you, in the very fabric of this world. It is the language of the universe; it is the language of the goddess.” The apparition gave a faint smile, as if she was remembering something. “That is the nature of Elsa’s power. She sees the language of the goddess in all things, and with it she sings the songs of magic.”

Anna stared at the doors in awe. “So I’m… I was… I am here because she wished for me?”

“Essentially,” said the apparition, smiling. “That is why everything you do comes back to her. That is what Pabbie and your father did not realize. You simply can’t keep away. And _she_ simply can’t live without you.”

Anna’s mouth felt dry. “So… I…” She looked up helplessly. “I was born to serve her?”

The apparition nodded. “You were born of her magic, of her will. That is why her power waxes when you are near her, and wanes when you are far, and it is why hers is the only magic that can hurt you. And it will kill you, just as it brought you into this world. It was not love that bound her to you, it was your blood. It was the language you were written in. But it _was_ love that bound _you_ to _her_.”

As she spoke, the world fell away again, and before Anna stood the princess – no, the _queen,_ Queen Elsa, dressed in her formal gown, standing in Hans’s solar. Her hands were clenched and her head was bowed. The flame had been quenched, and the windows were open and roared with wind. There, too, stood Hans, face pale with fear.

“I’ve done it, now,” said Elsa, laughing coldly, ironically. “I’ve hurt her again, and I… I think it’s…”

“She is still alive,” said Hans, shielding his eyes against the wind. He closed one of the windows and barred it heavily, leaning against it for an enduring moment as the gale continued to lash at it. “She is alive, but barely.”

“What am I to do?” sobbed Elsa, slashing the air with her free hand. A stream of ice painted the distant wall. “Why are the gods so cruel? Why does she keep coming back to me and why must I hurt her so?”

Hans did not answer. Elsa stood in the center of the room, her chest rising and falling with her slowing breaths. The winds outside slowed down and died.

“I want your final solution,” said Elsa coldly. “I want to end it all. Is it ready?”

Hans nodded slowly. “It is,” he said. “You get one wish. You can wish for your powers to disappear, if you like.”

Elsa did not respond to that, she turned and looked at the silent fireplace. She jabbed at it with her arm and it exploded in a sea urchin of icicles, throwing wooden shards all across the room.

“Bring it to me,” she said. “I have hurt her for the last time. She will be better off without me.”

And she vanished, and Anna stood rooted to the spot, watching the place Elsa had just been with a frenetic heart. She heard her breathing in her own ears as loud as bellows.

“But Elsa didn’t know either,” said the apparition. “How could she have known that your whole life you had been pursuing her without ever knowing it? You only wanted to follow her and abide her will, like rain follows clouds.”

 _Like rain follows clouds._ Anna felt in a rain storm in that moment. She felt if she turned her head back and opened her mouth she would drown. She screwed her eyes tight and lowered her head. Her life seemed so fake, now. She had always pursued Elsa. All that about honor, love – was any of it… _real?_

Desperately, she tried to think, tried to hold on to something, but everything sluiced away and left her alone. And Elsa – no, not her – but _Elsa…_

That was real. Elsa _was_ real. Even if Anna was just a… a thing, a thing brought to earth to grant her wish, a monster, a devil, an angel – Elsa was real. She knew that. And she was in danger. She was Hans’s prisoner. And nobody in the entire world knew the truth.

Except Anna.

_I have to save her._

Or was that just her nature talking?

 _I…. I have to save her. I_ will _save her._

There was no use. She knew what she was, but she… couldn’t help it.

_I will save her._

“So, Anna,” said the apparition evenly, “what will you do?”

“I will save her,” said Anna, eyes still shut tight. She opened them. “I will save her. I know I don’t have a choice, I know I’m going to die, but I will save her if it’s the last thing I do.”

The apparition lowered her head. “From Hans?”

“Yes,” and then Anna paused in reflection. “But… Hans’s magic is… it destroyed, well, it destroyed _you_ , didn’t it? And I’m a wanted woman, a branded traitor, and he controls the armies and the castle… what chance do I stand against him?”

“Probably none,” admitted the apparition. “But there’s something we can try. To understand Hans and his magic, there is one final thing we must discuss.”

The archway doors opened, and from within the darkened chamber, a black wind howled.

“We must speak to my brother,” she said, and glided through the open doorway.


	24. The Song of the Sword

Anna followed the apparition through the doors, entering a long hall paved with dark stones. She went deeper, beyond the light of the entrance, until only the apparition’s glow lit the way. The walls and floor seemed to grow darker as they went, too, fading from the gray of healthy rock to the miserable, sooty color of charcoal.

Anna dragged her gaze along the blackened rock walls and their contours, blinking in fascination as the lines formed odd shapes when the light hit them at certain angles.

“You have a brother?” Anna asked eventually, her voice echoing through the silent hall.

“I do,” said the apparition. “He was my best friend and my closest ally.”

“Is he… or, erm, _was_ he, a sword, or, uh, a weapon… like you?”

The apparition chuckled. “No. Gracious me, no. That was something _he_ gave to _me_ especially.”

“I don’t understand.”

The apparition turned her head. “I wasn’t always your sword, Anna.”

“Right,” said Anna. “I… I guess I figured as much. So… who were you… _before?_ ”

The apparition turned her head away again, and continued gliding down the hall. The surrounding walls grew blacker, and the glow of the apparition dimmed. But the light did not falter; where the apparition grew dimmer, tiny pinpricks of light began appearing on the walls, sharp little points like distant stars, forming constellations of greater and greater complexity. Soon they were in utter darkness, surrounded by little stars, although Anna’s steps did not falter, and the apparition, now as dim as the last inch of wick in a candle, began to speak in a calm whisper.

“Three hundred and twenty years ago, the northlands were divided and weak, a land of great strife and conflict. The Svithron Empire had ruled them for many years, but vice and decadence crumbled their mighty nation to ruins. The people of Norge, free from the shackles of Svithron rule, devolved into petty squabbles amongst themselves. All around, threats to the independence of Norge persisted. To the east, the Duchy of Weselton, first and most powerful of the former Svithron provinces; and to the south, the lands known as the Southern Isles, where a man named Cnut led a fleet of corsairs who dreamed of forging their own empire across all the North Seas.

“Norge was a barren land, populated by strong and hearty people, but without much wealth to call its own. While warlords and would-be princes came and went with the tides, the powers of those who would render Norge’s realms to mere provinces continued to grow.

“And then, one day, in a remote tribe in the high lands of the Earthspine, a most peculiar thing happened. A woman appeared, claiming to come from the far north, a distant land called The Mark. Nobody in the tribe believed her, for The Mark was hundreds of miles away, and freezing all year long. But she insisted she was from The Mark, and she had followed the southern stars to this tribe, and then she revealed that she was pregnant, and had born witness to a messenger from the Goddess herself, a being of light and fire.

“It said, _‘Listen to me, thou woman of The Mark, hardiest and strongest of all people of the Earth: thy child was conceived on Midwinter’s Day, by all the witnesses of the stars confirmed; and she will be born on Midsummer’s Day. I say thee, goest south, by the path of the stars, and give birth to her beneath the last light of Midsummer’s Day, atop the place from whence wind cometh.’_

“She repeated thus to the people of the mountain tribe, and they were awed, and prostrated themselves before her. They said her child was touched by divinity, and she must honor the command of the messenger.

“But she said, ‘The place from whence wind cometh – I know not where that is.’ And the people of the tribe said it was the Great Mountain, that mighty mountain that all can see from all parts of the dale. And so they brought her to the Great Mountain, and under the moonlight on Midsummer’s Day, she gave birth to a young girl.”

The apparition stopped speaking, and now the stars on the black walls began to move around each other, flitting in quick, hurried motions across the arches of the walls and floors that were black as pitch. They started forming shapes, simple ones, at first squares and circles but then crude drawings of people, armed with little swords and shields, running across the black fields one after another.

“For many years after, the people of Norge continued to fight, and that little girl and her mother lived with the tribe in the rocky passes of the Earthspine, safe from the travesties of the world below. In a few years, her mother was gifted with another child, a son.

“The family lived with the tribe in peace, until one day, the girl, still very young, was discovered to have magical powers. With but a snap of her fingers and a flick of the wrist, she could cover the skies in clouds and the ground in snow. Some of the tribe was frightened by this, and wanted the family to leave, but others in the tribe said it was a sign of the girl’s divinity. The mother pleaded with the tribe to let them stay, and they relented for her sake.

“Many years later, one day, the mother became deathly sick. The girl begged the tribal chieftain to give her mother the medicine she needed to live, but the tribal chieftain was reluctant to give it up. The girl grieved as her mother weakened, and the sky became gray. An awful storm fell on the mountains, and the tribe knew at once that it was the girl…”

A flash ran across the black wall, and then silhouettes started moving across it. They were people – and they were talking amongst themselves, playing a façade on the walls, and Anna heard their voices as clear as if she was standing next to them.

A group of shadows clustered around two smaller shadows. “Out of the way, boy! Bring us the girl!”

“No!” came the defiant response, and a little shadow jumped forward. “My sister is not a monster!”

“She has brought us this storm!” howled the shadows. “She has brought us death and destruction!”

“She can fix it!”

All the shadows shrunk and one grew to tower above the rest. A calm, easy voice hummed out of the walls. “I do not know how to stop the storm,” said the voice quietly. “But I can help you find somewhere else to live. Somewhere in the valley below, somewhere away from the storms…”

“And where will you find for us?” gnashed the shadows. “The valley below is naught but war and strife! Giant beasts and terrible men roam the valley like flies roam a rotting carcass!”

“I will find you an oasis of peace. I will go to the valley.”

Another shadow, one with a bent back and a crooked cane, stepped forward and grew. It had a long beard, visible in spite of the image. “The valley is ruled by a wicked god, a wolf named Aren, who hates humans,” it said in a raspy voice. “You will find no succor there.”

“I will,” insisted the calm shadow. “And I will deliver you to your promised land. And when I do, you will give my mother the medicine she needs.”

The light faded and the shadows disappeared. “So the girl went down to the valley, alone,” resumed the apparition. “She went into the heart of a great forest, at the center of which was said to be a wolf who could bite the heads off of men.”

The wall lit up again, and more silhouettes turned into shapes. These were sharper, somewhat, and Anna could plainly tell that one was meant to be a girl, short and lithe, and the other was a gigantic wolf, painted in shadows.

“Great wolf of the valley, hear me please!” shouted the girl. “I have come to treat with you on behalf of my people. You have no need to be afraid. I am unarmed–”

“Unarmed!” mocked the wolf, and she lunged for the girl. And suddenly the edges of the picture exploded with long, sharp shapes that pierced the wolf from all sides.

“I said ‘unarmed,’ not ‘helpless!’” chided the girl.

“Let me out of here, you witch!” cried the wolf.

“Not until you hear my request!” said the girl. “I know this valley is yours, but it is lush and warm, and my people live in a harsh place. I will give you a piece of my soul if you let my people live in your valley in peace.”

“A piece for peace,” pondered the wolf. “And what would I want with a piece of your soul?”

“You have seen for yourself that I am magical. Mayhap it would be the shred of such a magical soul would be of interest to you.”

“It would,” agreed the wolf. “But a soul for nothing is treacherous. Souls are slippery, and go not where you expect when their coil is relinquished. Where will I put your soul? Let me make you a counter-offer. You give me a shred of your soul, and I will exchange you a shred of mine. And henceforth as you rule this valley, you will go in my name.”

“And what is your name?” asked the girl.

“Aren,” said the wolf. “And what is yours?”

“Elina,” responded the girl, and the shadows vanished in a flash of golden light. Fuzzy darkness filled Anna’s eyes again, and she blinked as the constellations and little star warriors returned.

“And so she gave up a piece of her soul,” said the apparition, “and the storm in the mountains weakened ever so slightly. But the people of the mountains had grown lustful of the prospect of a life in the green lands below, and came at the girl’s request to the forest of the wolf. Her brother, however, was not happy to see her. And when the girl asked him why, he told her what had happened…”

Another picture appeared, this one of several small, huddled shadows, and one, huge and terrible.

It spoke in the girl’s voice – Elina’s voice. “And where is she? Where is my mother?”

The wise shadow emerged from the huddle, its cane and beard in evidence. “Unfortunately, my dear, your mother perished in the storm while we waited for your return.”

The girl was strangely calm. “Your medicine did not save her?”

The wise shadow shook its head. “No. I did not give her the medicine.”

“What?” bristled Elina. “Why not? We had a deal!”

“The deal was that you would bring us to the promised land, and _then_ we would give her the medicine. It is not our fault if you–”

Elina’s scream of rage seemed to shake the very foundations of the earth. “Liars! Traitors! Oath-breakers!” The shadows writhed like a mass of black worms, and the huddled ones huddled closer together. “Have you no compassion? How hard is your heart? If you insist on being so stony within, perhaps you should have the complexion to match! Hear me, you wretched mountain trolls! You men of stone! You who refuse to walk on your own behalf nor lift a finger to help in another’s! I hereby curse you to walk on legs so short you dare not wander, to grasp with hands so stubby you cannot build, and to have skin so hard that none may doubt your true predilections! This is my curse! Receive it now!”

The shadows faded again, and Anna felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. “Was that the Rockwoods?” she asked carefully.

“It was not known as such then, but since,” said the apparition, who paused for a moment, her gliding coming to a momentary halt. “I… believe you’ve met their descendants.” She resumed her earlier pace. “She had traded a piece of her soul for that of the wolf god’s, and with that exchange her sorceries became grander and stranger.

“But now she had no home, and only her little brother as family. She left the forest and wandered the valley, visiting the many petty holdfasts and realms of the lords who lived there and all around. She saw, first-hand, great strife and conflict. One by one, she pleaded to the four mightiest warlords in the land…”

More shadows appeared on the wall as the apparition spoke. A falcon. “House Corel.”

They shifted and became a rose. “House Linnaeus.”

A dragon. “House Berk.”

A wolf. “House Burrows.”

Anna nearly choked on spit. “Burrows?”

“And one by one, they refused her,” the apparition continued. “They continued to fight, and the storm continued to grow. It was not long after that she and her brother met a traveling sorcerer, a man by the name of…”

“Agahnim,” one shadow introduced itself, extending a trembling hand. It had a youthful, high-pitched, boyish voice. “Wizard, sorcerer, general-practice magician. Thing-doer, trap-maker, plan-plotter, plot-planner, trickster extraordinaire.”

“What do you want?” replied Elina, the sharp edges to her silhouette betraying her skeptical expression.

“I want to go into business with you,” replied Agahnim. “I heard you’re a witch, yeah? Well, everyone knows, if you want to do magic, you got to get an in with a witch.”

Elina folded her arms. “And what will you do for us?”

“We-ell.” Agahnim lifted his hands and wiggled them. “I couldn’t help noticing you visited the four big ones. How’d that go?”

“You know how it went,” said Elina sternly. “Get to the point.”

“Let me offer a bit of friendly advice. Two things matter in this world: power… and money.”

The shadows faded. “Agahnim was patronized by a wealthy merchant from Eastport,” explained the apparition. “With his connections and resources, he helped establish the girl and her brother. They became fast friends. The girl long contemplated Agahnim’s words, and, with his patronage, gained access to the greatest library in Norge. She pored over old works and legends, as word spread across the country of a growing snowstorm. When she had finished her research, she packed her things, and spoke to her brother.”

“Now, I want you to stay here with Agahnim until I get back,” said Elina’s shadow to another, shorter one. “I won’t be gone for too long.”

“But I don’t want you to go!” complained her little brother.

“It’s okay,” said Elina reassuringly. “I’m sure you’ll find ways to keep busy. You can play with your toy sword. And you can practice your letters.”

“It’s _not_ a toy, it’s a _real_ sword!” said the boy. He lowered his head. “I like it because _you_ made it for me.”

Elina looked down, and with a hint of guilt in her voice, leaned in close. “Do you want to know what I’m going to be doing?”

The boy’s head snapped up and he nodded vigorously.

Elina whispered. “Monster hunting.”

“Monster hunting?” repeated Anna as the images vanished.

The apparition nodded. “Elina had learned much in her studies. She learned the lands of Norge were home to ancient, untamed beasts with mysterious powers. And she learned that there had never been a witch with magic like hers.”

The hall lit up ever so slightly, becoming a deep, midnight blue, the color of the northern night. The stars remained, but were obscured by smoky, ominous clouds.

“The ancient beasts were tied to the land in a deep and profound way. Their health was the health of Norge, and she thought if she could seek them out and give them peace, then Norge would also know peace.”

As the apparition spoke, the clouds in the hall began to vanish and scatter, diminishing into unseen corners of the sky, and more stars twinkled in the places they had been. “She sought out first the elder wyrm, a _brann drage_ named Nidhoggr, and freed him from his captivity, giving him a piece of her soul in exchange for a piece of his.

“She sought out next the great kraken, a mighty leviathan named Hafgufa, who had suffered the spears and arrows of fishermen for so many years that he was covered in wounds and constantly pained. She pulled the thorn from his paw and gave him a piece of her soul in exchange for his.

“She sought out next the outsider of the Barrowings, a Poe named Jalhrimnir who had been tricked and bound to a lantern in a deep crypt. She shattered his lantern and gave him a piece of her soul in exchange for his.

“She sought out next the snow spirit, a nymph named Chione, a wandering spirit who had lost the ability to fly. She carried the spirit back to the temple of her goddess, and in doing so energized her. She gave a piece of her soul in exchange for the spirit’s.”

The sky was now empty but for stars beyond count, and a small, angry clump of soot-black clouds, muttering in the distance.

“This took many years and, when she was finished, she returned to her brother and Agahnim. She told them of those she had met and what she had done, of the compacts she had formed. And she told them that there was but one, final task.

“She had given a part of herself to each of five magical beings in Norge, and what remained was but a sliver. Yet in that sliver lay the keystone of all of them. She gathered the five to her and asked that they agree to one final covenant. She would use their collective magic to bring peace to Norge and establish a kingdom. With the souls she had collected, and her own final sliver, she created the Golden Power, and bound all the souls within. With this newfound power, and her five guardians at her side, she went forth and showed her might to all of Norge. One by one, the warlords who had refused her bent the knee, unable to resist her fury, and when her crusade was finished, thus was the Kingdom of Arendelle born.”

The apparition seemed to breath a deep sigh of relief. Her voice was shaking, as though she was making a great effort to speak. The stars in the walls scintillated more brilliantly than ever, not a cloud in sight. And then, the lights in the walls started going out, one by one. “That was the story they originally wrote,” the apparition said quietly, as the lights continued to fade. “I am probably the only one who remembers it, now.”

Anna saw now that they were at the end of the hallway. The black stone converged into a door of smooth obsidian, and carved thereupon, in resplendent teal and cyan, were shapes and curves that reminded her of… of something, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Play the song again,” said the apparition.

Anna nodded and pulled out Saria’s flute. Carefully, she raised it to her lips and blew.

Elsa’s song echoed up and down the corridor long after Anna had finished. The blue lines in the door pulsed with the tune, and then the obsidian slabs parted to reveal the passage forward. The apparition went through, and Anna followed.

They were in a high-ceilinged chamber now, a huge dome of gray and blue-green stone, carved in concentric patterns of strange, flowing script. Near the crest of the dome, long, narrow windows let in weak sheets of pale morning light. The beams spilled like drapes onto the ground below. In the center of the room sat a blue, tiered dais, covered in dust.

“What I just told you,” said the apparition, “was paraphrased from an epic poem written by Ser Hiccough of Berk. He called it _Etableringen av Arendelle_ ; the Founding of Arendelle. I doubt any copies of the poem are around today; Arendelle has a different myth, now. One that is a lot less flattering to… that girl.”

Anna looked at the apparition, head cocked. “Elina was the name of the Ice Queen, wasn’t it?” she said slowly. “I… I met her minions. Her, um, her guardians. They had… a lot of nice things to say about her.”

“I remember,” said Elina. “It was nice to see them again, all things considered.”

And then it clicked. Anna’s eyes panned out and she gasped sharply. Of course. It made so much sense.

“You’re Elina,” whispered Anna. “That story was about… it was about _you_ , wasn’t it?”

The apparition did not immediately respond. She floated to the middle of the room to look at the empty dais.

“It was,” she said after a long pause. She looked at Anna, and a bewildering glimmer appeared in her ghostly, pale eyes. Her form shimmered, and her lines became clearer. Anna could see it, now, see _her._ She was really small, shorter even than Anna, and had a dainty, almost unhealthy figure. And her hair reminded Anna exquisitely of Elsa’s.

“They call me the ‘Ice Queen’, now,” said Elina as Anna continued to gawk in amazement. “I’m sure you know.”

This was a bit much to take in. Anna brought her hands together and bit her lower lip, still gazing at the frail wraith before her. The Ice Queen. Elina. Autumn. “What happened?” Anna asked in a small voice. “Who betrayed you? How did you – who did this to you?”

“I trusted,” said Elina, looking back at the dais. “Too much. That is the funny thing about betrayal, Anna. It only comes from the ones you trust.” She held out a translucent hand, waving it above the dais in a slow, hypnotic movement. “It’s here,” she murmured, and turned to face Anna fully.

“I did not make the Golden Power to become stronger,” Elina said flatly. Her face hardened into sharp lines, and her brow furrowed severely. “Nor did I make it so that I could cow the warlords of Norge into submission. It would be easy to claim avarice here, but no. No. I made the Golden Power because I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” asked Anna.

“Myself.” Elina gestured to the skylights, tilting her head back to look at them as she did. “I didn’t ask to have powers,” she said quietly. “I remember packing snowballs with my little brother when the tribes people saw me. There was shouting, and yelling. They looked like they wanted to kill us. My mother stood between us, but…” Elina dropped her head. “I could never control it after she died. Everything I did just added to the growing storm. So, I… I just gave my powers away. Every time I gave up a piece of my soul, the storm weakened. Every time I cast ice, it grew stronger. Dark clouds over the Earthspine was a common sight in those days.

“The Golden Power was the last of it. It was the last piece of my soul that I dared cut out, and it was all the other souls I had been given in compensation. I hid it away in my castle. The castle was much smaller, in those days, just a keep and a tower. My magic was gone, but, at least, so was the storm. Whenever I needed something, I could… visit the tower, if I wanted. But I stopped visiting after a while, and that’s when the storm came back. Something was wrong with it, but I didn’t know what, and I… I had forgotten how to…” She wrung her hands together, in exactly the same way Elsa used to. “I was afraid, again.”

She waved her hand, and the air above the dais seemed to shift and distort, like light being refracted through a curved glass vase. It twisted and warped severely, and then suddenly bounced back to normalcy. And there, in the place nothing had been a moment before, was a long, ice-blue sword, its tip firmly lodged in a stone pedestal, in which was carved a snowflake with six spokes.

The sword’s metal was silvery and tinted strongly with glacial colors, reminding of a crisp sky on a fresh winter evening. The hilt was a brilliant blue, as of lapis lazuli, and looked finely carved out of the same stone. In the hand guard, which was flared like a pair of eagle wings, a crystalline sapphire was lodged, shaped like a triangle. The blade flared about five inches down its length, wherein was shaped into the steel another six-pointed snowflake.

“When I made the Golden Power, I realized I needed a sixth guardian. I _wanted_ a sixth guardian. And when I wielded the Golden Power, I felt such power and control as never I had felt before. It was all of my magic and all of the magic of my Five. It was… pure potential. It was the magic I knew, but it was as though someone had lifted a great weight off my back. No more the dark clouds hung over my head. So I forged this sword. I made it the master of my magic. I called it Wintersfury. And I gave it to my brother.”

Suddenly her head perked up, and her nostrils flared like she was sniffing for something. “You’re here, Andrew,” she whispered.

There was no response from the chamber, only quiet. Anna strained to hear and looked around wildly, but there was still nothing out of the ordinary; only Elina and the sword in the stone.

Anna took a tentative step forward. “Andrew – he’s your brother?”

“Indeed,” said Elina, although she looked distracted. “When the storm returned, he was the first to notice. He confronted me, asking if I knew anything. I told him I didn’t. And it’s true, I really didn’t. But that didn’t matter. Agahnim had his ear. The many years I had been on my odyssey, Agahnim had won Andrew’s trust and favor. And the two were great friends. So when Agahnim started to express his doubts and misgivings that the storm had returned, Andrew folded like a handkerchief.

“Do you remember, Andrew?” she raised her voice and addressed the room at large. Her voice did not echo, and oddly that only made it sound all the queerer. “Do you remember when you confronted me? I’m going to show her, now. I’m going to show her what you did. Your carefully constructed history, the one you built up for three centuries, is going to fall in three seconds.”

There was still no answer from the room. Elina clenched her fists. “Don’t hide from me, Andrew. You knew this day was coming.”

The walls of the room melted away, and the ground shifted and changed. Anna knew it was another vision. They were standing in a room, a throne room with high, bright windows. The floor and walls were blue as ice, and a strong draft of thin air breathed through the width of the hall, crossing from window to window like a stream of fresh spring water. It was the room she had met the Ghost King, in that palace of ice atop the North Mountain.

Sitting in the chair on the dais was not the revenant, however, but Elina, dressed in a blue-white dress that fell to the ground in folds. She wore a silver band on her brow, and her hair was carefully braided and knotted in a regal bun. Her hands gripped the armrests of the throne so tightly that, were they not already so pale, they would be white as ash. Anna saw that her right hand was actually holding something, something small that Elina’s entire hand could curl around.

He walked in the room. He wore a thick, fur mantle over a heavy suit of polished leather armor. Chainmail clinked as he walked, and his thick, plated boots thudded the floor with undeniable heaviness. His hair was a brilliant shade of red, and his eyes were ripe with blue. The scabbard on his back was blue with gold trim, a strong, magisterial color, and the hilt of the sword was unmistakable: it was the same that was in the pedestal. It was Wintersfury.

“Elina.” His voice was thick. “What are you doing up here?”

Elina shut her eyes tight. “Go away, Andrew…”

Behind him, another man walked into the room, his face long and gaunt, his shoulders sloped. He wore a thick set of fur-lined, gold-embroidered green robes. His hair was jet-black, and he had a thick goatee around his mouth and chin. He grimaced.

“It is as we feared, Andrew. She is hiding, as I said.”

Andrew took an insistent step forward. “Elina, you must tell me the truth. Why are you up here, so far from the kingdom, all alone while the ice storms continue to rage below?”

Elina opened her eyes again and glanced at Andrew. Her face was fresh with fear, and her lips moved soundlessly before she said, hoarsely, “Please, just go away.”

Anna felt a hand on her shoulder. She started and turned around: there was Elina, again – but not the same one that sit the throne. The apparition.

“Part of me knew that Andrew already had his answer,” she murmured. “That Agahnim had already made up Andrew’s mind for him. But the rest of me didn’t want to believe that.”

Andrew drew Wintersfury from its scabbard. “It’s true, isn’t it?” he said in a low, cold voice. “You’re the one causing this blizzard, causing the people below to suffer through this… this endless winter! Admit it!”

“Now, Andrew…” began the goateed man, but Andrew ignored him. He advanced several steps, sword held aloft. “Admit it!”

Tears began streaming down Elina’s face. “No, it’s… I don’t…”

The goateed man frowned. “I don’t hear you denying it,” he said softly, advancing to stand at Elina’s side.

Elina shot him a poisonous glance, lasting for all of a second.

Andrew took another step and hesitated. He lowered his sword slightly. “Elina, you don’t have to do this,” he said softly. “You can stop the blizzard. I know you can.”

Elina could not look him in the eyes. “I… I can’t. I… I don’t know how.”

Whatever emotions Andrew felt then were hidden behind his face, which grew still and hard in that moment. The goateed man cleared his throat, the sound echoing around the hall. “You can see we have no choice, Andrew,” he said, giving the big man a sympathetic glance. He turned to face Elina, and stepped onto the dais. “In the name of the people, and speaking as the Supreme Adjudicator of the Kingdom of Arendelle, I hereby sentence you to death.”

Elina’s horror was palpable. She was frozen, eyes wide and teeth bared in disbelieving terror. Then, everything changed. The scowl erupted on her face with incredible force. Quick as lightning, she stood and twisted her arms. A blast of ice shot out at the goateed man, who had not even time to react.

But he didn’t need it. With equal speed, Andrew lifted his sword and intercepted the blast. It diminished against the steel like a drop of water on a brick wall.

Elina backed up, tripping over the side of the throne and stumbling down the dais. She landed, hard, on the ground, and on her hands and feet scrambled backwards against the opposite wall, her eyes darting from the sword, to the goateed man, to Andrew.

“Please, Andrew, don’t,” she croaked. “Agahnim is lying to you, he’s lying to you, I don’t…”

Andrew advanced, face still hard. “Are you the one causing this storm?” he asked plainly.

Slowly, terribly, Elina nodded. “But I… I can’t… I can’t stop…”

The tears glistened on her soft, white cheeks as Andrew pinned her shoulder with his left hand. With his other, he gripped the sword hilt tightly, and plunged it into Elina’s stomach. A red spot grew on the white dress. Elina’s chest rose and fell with weakened, shortening breaths, stopping with one final, fitful gust as her eyes stared glassy and unseeing. Her right hand unfurled, and a small, red stone slipped out to rattle on the floor.

Andrew pulled the blade free. A sudden blast of frost erupted from the wound his sword had left, catching Andrew full in the chest and face. He staggered backwards, coughing heavily. The dust settled, and then all was still.

“Is it done?” said the goateed man.

“It is done, Agahnim,” said Andrew, covering his mouth with the crook of his arm and coughing again. He ran his free hand through his hair, tracing over a single, white strand as he did, and looked at the windows. Rays of light shot through them. “Has the storm stopped?”

“I… think so,” said Agahnim. “We should call that sword Winters _bane_ if you ask me.” He stepped closer to Elina’s fallen form. “What’s this?” he gestured to the red rock.

Andrew stared at the red rock but said nothing about it. “What else is there to do? I want to leave this place.”

“Of course. There’s just one thing I need to check.” Agahnim stooped over Elina and felt around the bodice of her dress, evidently trying to find something hidden on her person. “No, she must have put it…” He stood again and looked at the dais, a smile flashing on his face as he noticed the throne. “Ah, yes.”

“Agahnim,” said Andrew impatiently, “what are you trying–?”

“Just one more thing, Your Grace, and our work here will be done.” Agahnim went up to the throne and grabbed one of the armrests with both hands. It vanished in an instant, and in its place rose a tall, thin pedestal, upon which was mounted a crystal box. Agahnim could not conceal his grin any more. “Oh, _yes._ ”

A look of bewilderment mounted itself on Andrew’s face. “Agahnim…”

But he was not listening. Hands descended on the box and pried the lid open greedily. A golden glow spilled forth, splashing the walls and ceiling with warm light.

“Ha ha,” chortled Agahnim, reaching into the box carefully and removing the item within. It was a golden, triangular plate, nary larger than the cover of a tome, that glowed with a resplendent aura. Anna felt her heart quicken to look at it, such was its radiance. But there was something wrong with it, as well: little streaks of black and green tarnished its surface. Strangely, they reminded Anna of bruises. “She brought it with her, after all. Looks like she wasn’t able to find what was wrong, either.”

Andrew blinked, looking utterly lost. “Agahnim, what are you talking about?”

Agahnim turned suddenly, the golden triangle clutched tightly to his chest. “This is Elina’s treasure, Andrew,” said Agahnim in a slow, deliberate tone. “The… the mark of the covenant she made with her filthy little friends. All of her magic, all of her power… it’s _mine_ now.”

“The Golden Power?”

“The very same, but I may rename it.” Agahnim laughed. “Something catchier. Maybe _The_ _Agahnim Device._ Something like that. Maybe I’ll bind it to a scepter. Oh – the possibilities are limitless! It’s mine, now, that’s all that matters. Mine, mine, _all mine._ ”

Andrew stared blankly. “Elina made that… that… _thing_ to… to control her magic… to end the storm. She put all her magic in it.” He looked down. “I thought it worked…”

“It did, oh, _it did,_ ” said Agahnim giddily. “You should believe it worked, all right. But she left it unguarded, after all. Any old fool could waltz in, pop out the keystone, and give it their own special touch, their own drop of _venom._ ” He laughed loudly. “Thankfully not just _any_ fool _did._ She probably never even thought that someone had corrupted her precious little instrument. She went straight to blaming herself. But, hey, so did you!”

“I… I thought…” Andrew looked at the dead body of Elina, his face white. He took a panicked step away, stumbling and devolving into a coughing fit. His hand was red where blood had splattered it. The room shot through with red; the walls, the lights, floor, and ceiling; all, for a moment, flashed a dark, macabre shade.

Anna blinked, and for a second didn’t know what she was looking at.

“Monster hunting,” said a much younger Elina.

The boy’s smile did not last. A crack of thunder outside rattled the windowpanes. He looked at them with a start.

Elina noticed. Her smile fell, too. “This storm won’t last, I’m sure.”

“It’s been following us,” said the boy. He looked at Elina. He would brook no argument on this one. “It’s still yours, isn’t it?”

Elina looked at the ground. “It is, Andrew. I… I promise I’ll find a way to stop it.”

“You’ve been saying that for _years,_ ” said Andrew, and he stomped his foot in exasperation. “Years of wandering around, bringing snow and blizzards everywhere we go…”

“Andrew, listen to me.” Elina put a small hand on the boy’s tiny shoulder. “ _This_ is why I’m leaving. This storm. I’ll find a way to stop it, and I won’t return until I do.”

The boy sniffed. “Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

They were back in the throne room. Elina was dead. Andrew descended to his knees, breathing heavily. “You lied to me,” he said to Agahnim, his voice cold.

“Oh, come now,” said Agahnim, wagging a finger with one hand while he clutched the Golden Power tighter with his other. “Do you really think it served the facility of the kingdom to let an unstable witch like her run amok, anyway? It was for the greater good, my friend. Well, _my_ greater good, anyway.”

“You _lied!_ ” screamed Andrew, pushing himself to his feet. He wielded Wintersfury with both hands. “You lied, and now she’s dead, because of _you!_ ”

“Because of _you!”_ shouted Agahnim in retort. “You’re the one who struck her down! Her own Lord Protector, too! Oh, how tragic!”

Andrew brandished Wintersfury and sliced the air with it, advancing on Agahnim. “I will kill you, so help me gods – !”

“Yes, kill me too!” sneered Agahnim, backing away. “Kill me and then run back down the mountain to all your sister’s bannermen! Tell them how you defied your oath and slew their queen in cold blood! See how long they let you wear her crown! All her life work will be dust before the moon has changed! You _need_ me, kinslayer, so long as you want the Kingdom of Arendelle to be more than a footnote in history!”

Andrew paused in his advance. “I _need_ you?” he repeated incredulously.

Agahnim gave a wicked grin. “Don’t you know how this thing works? It grants the desires of the one who holds it. Oh… the things I could wish for, Andrew. Money. Power. Hehe. I could wish for the kingdom.” He stared at the ceiling, eyes rolling in rapture. “Why settle? I could wish for magic. I could wish for _her_ magic. I could wish for… for _this._ The Golden Power, yes, of course, nothing is more powerful than this. Why should I have to settle for being second best to an inanimate slab? Why should I settle, when I can… _be_ that slab?”

Suddenly, rays of golden light shot out of his eyes and mouth. The Golden Power pulsed and vibrated, rocking the room with short-lived tremors. It hovered in midair mere feet above the ground as Agahnim, his skin aglow, looked all around. His eyes were like pools of light, and whenever he spoke, the room shook.

“Yes, I _am_ the Golden Power, now,” he said, apparently in awe of himself. He flexed his glowing hands and admired them, as if he was seeing them for the first time. “And _you_ are nothing to me, little Andrew. I think I will have your kingdom after all. And then I’ll take the rest of Europa. And if I get bored with that, maybe the whole world.” He walked across the room to stand before Andrew, still grinning in his iridescent way.

When Agahnim had come close, Andrew swung his sword. It connected square with Agahnim’s side – but it refused to go any further, Andrew’s attack bouncing away harmlessly with a resounding twang.

“Ah, temper, my boy,” cooed Agahnim. “I should smite you for that, but I am a forgiving god. And, besides,” he lifted a hand to brush the hair out of Andrew’s face, “it looks like you’re already dead.”

“W-What do you mean?” stuttered Andrew, backing away and circling around Agahnim’s other side, sword constantly at the ready.

“I mean that you’ve been touched, little Andrew. _Touched._ That parting gift from our dear queen hit you right in the heart. If I’m not mistaken, you’ll be dead before long. At least now I know I have nothing to fear from you. Not that I ever had to _begin_ with, but, you know, you _never_ know.”

Andrew tightened his grip on his sword. “You’re lying.”

“Not this time.” Agahnim grinned and pointed. “Look at your hair – it’s white as chalk.”

Andrew’s eyes darted up, attempting to catch a strand of hair on the edge of his vision. He must have seen. His brow raised and he closed his mouth.

Agahnim spread his hands. “Well, Andrew. I can let you go and live your last few months in peace. It’s the least I can do for you after the political landscaping you’ve done for me. Or you can stay and fight me, but I don’t know what chance you think you have. I am all-powerful, and you… have a sword.”

Andrew looked at his sword, and back at the golden figure in front of him.

He thought of it the same time Anna did.

_“I made it the master of my magic.”_

Andrew lunged. Not for Agahnim, but for the Golden Power, still floating in the place that it had been left.

Agahnim’s face melted with rage. The entire room seemed to move to stop Andrew, but it was too late. The sword parted the air and came down on the Golden Power with a shattering crash. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. The shards hit the floor.

“Y-You…” Agahnim was frozen in place. A gust picked up around his feet, a swirl of snowflakes and ice, and then he was steaming, a thick, misty vapor sublimating from his very skin. “Y-You…”

There was a sound like rushing air, and then he was gone, disappeared in a final wisp of vapor. All that remained were the shards on the ground, six of them, like jagged pieces of golden obsidian rock.

Andrew lowered his sword. He stooped to pick up one of the shards, but recoiled sharply as soon as he did, wincing. “Well, at least now you’re stuck in there.” He grabbed the shard with a hasty twitch, like it was the hot end of a burning torch, and stuffed it into his pocket. He stood up straight and glared down at the rest of them. “One shard for each of her guardians, do you think that’s fair?”

He looked around the empty room, and spied the red stone lying on the ground, feet from Elina’s body. He crossed the room quickly, and picked up the red stone, kneeling. He closed his fingers around it, and his hand shook.

When he stood again, the room was not as it was before. People crowded the far end of the hall, four figures standing out, foremost among the rest. One was a woman with long black hair and piercing violet eyes, wearing thick, fur-lined leather armor. Another was a tall, thin man with a smooth face and shaggy black hair that hung over his eyes. A third was a man with almond hair and hazel eyes and a close-trimmed beard. The fourth was a man in long green robes, his long, blond hair tied into braids.

“Thank you for coming today,” said Andrew to the hall. Anna saw that Wintersbane was gone, and in its place, a simple broadsword was slung over his back. His hair was now completely white, and on his forehead he wore a thin, cast iron band. “I know it is not easy to climb a mountain, much less this one. But with the storm abated it should not have troubled you overly.”

“What is the matter, Prince Andrew?” The almond-haired man stepped forward. “What news of the Queen?”

Andrew acknowledged him with a nod. “It is to speak about the Queen that I have called you all here, Lord Burrows. It is with a heavy heart that I must report that she has been killed.”

Shocked silence answered him. Lord Burrows narrowed his eyes. “Killed by whom… Your Grace?”

Andrew rolled his eyes and set his jaw. “By me.”

The sounds of steel scraping against leather filled the room just then, and Andrew raised a fist. “Enough! Draw not your weapons in this room, for it is a hallowed place, by my decree.”

“And why should we not draw our weapons against you?” shouted Lord Burrows, pulling out a thin sword and raising it into the air. “You have slain our queen. You are a traitor, and deserve a traitor’s death!”

“It was she who was the traitor, you foolish cur!” spat Andrew. “The evidence has been made abundant as to the storm that has wrecked these lands for the past year. I know not how or why nor what madness took her that impelled her to these actions, but you can see for yourself the truth of the matter – I put her to the sword, and the storm ceased. Think on it! Now that the sun shines on your serfs and crops again, who is it you have to thank?”

That seemed to give the assembled host some pause. As the ensuing silence hung over them, the sound of swords being sheathed came through in a steady patter. But Lord Burrows still held his sword aloft, face set in a scowl.

“And how can we know you speak truly to us?” he said.

“Think on it, Lord Burrows,” murmured the violet-eyed woman. “We all knew the Queen had strange ice sorcery. That is how she was able to bring us to heel, after all.” Nods and murmurs of affirmation came from the other lords and the rest.

“And what of it?” spat Lord Burrows. “Did we not bend our knees to her? I care not for these allegations. I was the Queen’s sworn man, and no one else’s.”

Andrew grit his teeth. “If you mean to rebel against my authority as the Queen’s rightful heir–”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” sneered Lord Burrows. “You are heir to smoke and ash. Gods frown on kin-killers and usurpers alike.” He spat on the ground. “The Queen named me Lord Paramount of the Dale. Before that, I was Lord Mayor of a small town. I won’t have my children inherit a tainted title. I know I cannot defeat you in rebellion, and I know that bloodshed would create a peace of devastation. Instead, I denounce you. I wash my hands of your treason and do hereby strip my name and house of that title. Let no Burrows ever henceforth assume a title above his station until what’s been made wrong is put to rights.” And with that, he spun on his heels and walked out, some of the host parting ways to let him, a few of them following.

Andrew grit his teeth. Nobody in the room said a word. “Just as well,” he rumbled. “I would want none like him as my great lords. Let him and all his progeny rot in that filthy little town. Nothing will come of it, anyway.” He nodded at the three remaining lords in turn. “Do any of you have objections, now that you know the facts?”

The wary glance they exchanged barely lasted. The violet-eyed woman and the green-robed man went to their knees, drawing their weapons and balancing them tip-first on the floor. The thin, black-haired man looked between the others before he joined them.

“House Linnaeus will follow you, Your Grace,” said the green-robed man.

“As will House Corel,” said the violet-eyed woman.

“And House Berk,” said the black-haired man, after a short pause.

Andrew nodded. “I accept your pledges. May your houses prosper and know plenty. Now, rise, my lords, and dismiss your people. We have another matter to discuss in private.”

The three rose and, in hushed tones, instructed their soldiers to leave. When all had gone but for the three, Andrew went to them and produced a small leather pouch from his belt.

“One thing I managed to salvage from the queen’s belongings,” explained Andrew, dumping the contents of the pouch into an open palm. A blue stone, a green stone, and a red stone slid out in quick succession to clack against one another. They shimmered and glittered with a strange, effervescent light.

“By the goddess,” said the Lord of Linnaeus.

“What are they?” asked the Lady Corel.

“These are magical stones. I believe they will grant good fortune to your houses, so long as they remain in the belonging of the same. One for each of you. Pass them on to your children. Guard them. Keep them safe.” He beckoned, and Lady Corel and Lord Linnaeus extended their hands. Andrew put the blue one into Lady Corel’s and the green one into Lord Linnaeus’s. “And the red is for you, my Lord of Berk,” said Andrew, flashing a hard look at the black-haired one. “You were the… closest to the queen of all you three. And in this stone I feel the strongest resonance of her magic.” He held out the red stone, and the Lord of Berk, with apparent reluctance, extended his hand and received it. He stared at it fixedly.

“Guard these stones, as I have said. Consider them the birthright of your houses. Go, now. You are dismissed.”

Lady Corel and Lord Linnaeus bowed low, and exited the room in a measured hurry.

The Lord of Berk did not follow.

“Ser Hiccough,” grunted Andrew, turning away and marching back to the throne at the end of the room. He sat down on it heavily. “I said you were dismissed.”

Ser Hiccough glared at the sitting king. “You’re lying,” he said evenly.

Andrew ground his teeth and stood out of his chair, hand on the hilt of his great sword. “Guard your tongue, I’m your king now.”

Ser Hiccough was not cowed and thrust his jaw defiantly at the king. “I pledged my fealty to Elina, not you. And I knew her. I was by her side all through the conquest. I wrote her songs.”

“You _think_ you knew her,” said Andrew, lifting a finger and wagging it warningly at Ser Hiccough, “but, you didn’t. Nobody did. She was cunning that way.”

Ser Hiccough did not blink. “Your hair. It’s changed color.”

“A curse the queen placed on me before she passed away,” said Andrew with a wave. “Of little consequence. She is, as I told you, a –”

“Why this gem?” Ser Hiccough held up the red stone. “You said it was special. How?”

“I am no sorcerer, Ser Hiccough,” said Andrew, rolling his eyes.

Ser Hiccough deposited the gem in a pocket. “The queen commissioned a poem,” he said, changing the subject.

“Do you want permission to continue it?” asked Andrew with a raised eyebrow.

“I want permission to tell the truth,” said Ser Hiccough. “As I have been doing. The whole truth. Who she was, what she did – and what _you_ did.”

That did it. The king’s face purpled, and he adopted a dark scowl. “We will speak no more of this,” he said through clenched teeth. “I want you to burn that heresy you wrote for… for… that… abomination, that… witch, that… _monster._ ”

Ser Hiccough matched the king’s glare, and after a short, tense moment, broke it off, bowing stiffly. “Thy will be done, my liege.”

After he had left, the king lowered himself into his throne again. He sat with trepidation, as though it pained him to do so, and settled his jaw on an upraised fist. He stared out the window silently, and then he and the walls melted away.

Anna was back in the chamber with the sword and Elina’s ghost. She blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes, attempting to dispel the sudden dizziness that came over her.

“And now you know,” said Elina.

“Know what?” asked Anna, blinking the lights out of her eyes.

“The origin of the Legendary Hero.” Elina smirked and gave a dry, empty chuckle. “The book Ser Hiccough ended up writing was the story every child in the land came to know and love, the story about the great hero killing the evil frost witch. Ser Hiccough wrote another tome, as well – his journals, his personal illuminations and notes. But they were heavily edited, doctored, and changed. The king would not permit the truth to be told. Still, they were useful notes when it came to tracking down the Golden Power, weren’t they? But, in all this note-taking, _one_ thing was still lost to history after that. Can you tell me what it was?”

Anna’s gaze fell on the silvery-blue sword in the small, stone pedestal. “The sword.”

Elina nodded, and looked also at the sword. “This is where Andrew hid the sword. It’s doubtful you could remove it, though…” She gave Anna a sidelong glance. “At least, not until we know how he put it here.”

Anna gasped. “That’s why you brought me here!” she said in a frantic voice. “The sword – this sword can defeat Hans, can’t it?”

Elina nodded again. “Hans’s magic is, at its basest level, mere trickery. But he said something while we were down in those dungeons that gave me pause. He spoke of feeding off of Elsa’s magic, of basking in her glow. By himself, Hans is no match for you. However, the longer Elsa stays sequestered away, the stronger Hans will become. But there is hope.” She gestured to the sword. “Elsa’s magic is my magic, come again, and I created the key to my magic many years ago: this sword.”

 A burst of spastic eagerness filled Anna, and she ran to the dais and stood before the pedestal, placing both hands firmly on the hilt of the sword. “If this is what I need to stop Hans, then I should just take it, shouldn’t I?” With all her might, she lifted.

The sword did not budge.

She tried again, and again, and pulled it at odd angles. After many seconds of trying, she backed away, confused and panting.

“I can’t lift it,” she said, crestfallen.

Elina concealed her mouth with a hand and giggled lightly. “Ah, I see. It’s been sealed here. You couldn’t lift it even with the strength of ten thousand men. Isn’t that right, Andrew?” She looked around again. “Come on out, Andrew. She needs your help, can’t you see that?”

Moments passed. Anna looked around, growing more and more confused as she did.

Then she saw him. The Ghost King, or the wraith, or – whatever he had called himself, that ghastly visage on the North Mountain – appeared in the room in a flicker of light. But he looked different, this time. He still had his armor, and a sword was slung over his back, but his face was not the same sickly green it had been, rather it seemed younger, healthier.

He looked blankly between Elina and Anna, saying nothing.

Elina, for her part, had stopped smiling completely. She gave him an icy stare, and her voice was cold. “Andrew.”

“Elina.” He dipped his chin.

“I knew you’d come back here,” said Elina with an unctuous twist in her voice. “After Anna and I killed you –”

“Anna did not kill me,” he interrupted. “You did. _She_ put me to rest.”

“Consider it repaying the favor for the time you killed me. Did you forget that part? None of this would have happened if you hadn’t betrayed your country and killed me.”

Andrew looked away, his nose wrinkled as in distaste.

“You can’t hide from it anymore, Andrew,” said Elina, her voice rising. “What, did you think that distributing the shards of the Golden Power to the Five would make it go away forever? Did you think that you could forget about it if you sealed your instrument of betrayal in some dusty old sanctum? Did you think it would all work out for the better if you told everyone and their children and their children’s children to hate me? Did you think that would wash the slate clean? You can scrub all you want, but nothing can change that this country was forged by blood and betrayal.”

“ _You_ betrayed this country!” snarled Andrew, his eyes ablaze. “ _You_ threatened to bury it in your eternal winter, you monster!”

“That’s a lie and you know it!” screamed Elina, throwing up her arms. “Or have you told it so many times you’re starting to believe it? No – I don’t think so. I think you’re ashamed. I know you are.”

“What was I supposed to do?” shouted Andrew hysterically. “It was lie to them, or let all that you had worked for crumble into nothing!”

“Maybe that would have been for the best,” said Elina darkly. “ _No city built on bones and dust can long abide such a foundation, for when the grave-worms come it will sink into its crypt._ I hope you’re happy, Andrew. The grave-worms are out there, and they’re eating the floor out from beneath your great-granddaughters.”

Andrew knotted his hands and ground his ghastly teeth. “What’s that from?”

“What?”

“That quote, what – who said it?”

Elina blinked. “Marwan VI, caliph of the Umallads.”

“What was he talking about?”

“The downfall of Aztec Iberia.” Elina’s shoulders fell, and she spoke, more softly this time. “ _Help_ her, Andrew. She’s your descendant.”

Andrew turned and met Anna’s gaze. It was then that she realized she was looking at her great-grandfather – how many “great’s” went in there, Anna could not hope to remember. She couldn’t remember how that worked, anyway. What was it Kristoff had said about “great’s”…?

The armor seemed to melt off Andrew. It flew away in wispy flurries, sluicing off his body until only a thin tunic and breeches remained. His hair was ghostly white, his face deathly pale, and his eyes big and blue.

“I was so sure it was you, Elina,” he said in a small voice. “Everything Agahnim said, it… it made so much sense.”

Elina gave him a sympathetic look, but said nothing.

Andrew walked over to the sword, Anna noticing as he did that his feet did not seem to touch the ground. He was floating, and shimmering, too, just as Elina was. “Those three soul stones were for me, for my sword – weren’t they? I was supposed to put a piece of my soul into each of them and then the sword would truly be mine. That’s what you said.” He looked at Elina as if for confirmation, and she nodded. “But… when you dropped the ruby, it… already had a soul in it.”

“The last of mine,” said Elina. “They very last of it. There was a vacuum in that ruby. It was looking for something. And when you killed me, it took it. And there I had been ever since, to this day. I saw the Berks disgraced and de-landed. I saw Astrid and her brother run away from home. And I saw Anna risk her life again and again in pursuit of right.”

Andrew nodded vacantly, and stared at Anna. “There were three gems, but without the third gem, I did not know how to unlock the sword’s true power. I knew it wouldn’t truly be mine. From the day I killed you, it refused to listen to me. So I sealed it with the three gems. To break the seal, you’ll need to gather them here.”

Anna sighed audibly. “But we don’t have the three gems.”

“Of course we do,” said Elina; “The Fairy Bow that the Valkyrie gave you contains the sapphire, and the pendant that Lord Linnaeus gave you contains the emerald, do they not?”

“We don’t,” insisted Anna. “The ruby. I left Autumn’s hilt back at the castle.”

Elina chuckled. “Anna, _I’m_ here. We have what we need.”

A shot of adrenaline ran through Anna and her heart fluttered. “We… we do?” Suddenly she yanked the bow off her back and the pendant off her neck and held them out. “Okay. Here they are. The sapphire and the emerald.”

Andrew looked from the gems to Elina. “Then my part in this is done,” he said heavily. “I will leave you two.”

“And go where?” said Elina sharply. “Do you plan to forever wander the Earth a lost and troubled soul?”

Andrew gave an odd, half-scowling, half-pained expression. “It is because of you that I am this way. This is what it means to be touched in the heart by magic. A slow death, a long undeath. In fact, there is little doubt it will happen to Anna as well.”

“You and Anna are nothing alike,” said Elina calmly.

Andrew stared at Anna again. “Your hair is turning white, Anna. Do you know what that means?”

Anna did. “I’m dying,” she said; and just then, her heart was clamped in a vise. Of course, she had known for some time that she was dying, but saying it out loud… somehow, it made it more real, more… _terrible._

“And do you know why?”

“Yes.”

Andrew looked incredulous. “And you _still_ want to save her?”

Anna felt annoyed by that. She drew herself up. “Yes.”

“Madness.” Andrew shook his head. “Rank madness.”

“Not madness,” said Elina. “Love.”

Andrew swiveled his head at Elina. “Love?” His voice cracked a little.

“Yes, love.” She said the words almost pitifully, staring at Andrew like one might stare at a lost or wounded animal. “You remember love, don’t you…?”

Andrew waved a hand and turned away. “The sword is there for you. Take it.”

“We can’t, yet, Andrew,” said Elina.

“Why not?”

“You said so yourself that the sword’s true power is locked away,” said Elina. “It was bound to three soul gems, and only two held your soul.”

“So?” Andrew looked testy. “There’s nothing doing for that. The seal is made.”

“Andrew,” said Elina patiently. “The sword is little more than steel unless the soul gems have their complement.”

“What do you mean?” Andrew looked at her with a flicker of suspicion. “You don’t mean… you don’t want me to…” His voice dropped very low and quiet. “Go _into_ the sword?”

Slowly, Elina nodded.

“B-But I,” Andrew appeared to swallow nervously. “I…”

“It wouldn’t just be you,” said Elina. She held up a finger. “One of the gems is for me.”

Andrew’s eyes bulged. “S-So, you and I would have to… both of us would have to… I would be bound to the sword… with _you?_ ”

Elina lowered her hand. “I had no idea you felt so strongly about me,” she said dryly.

“No!” said Andrew hastily. “It isn’t that – ”

Elina cut him off. “Andrew, you know better than anyone the dangers that Anna faces next. You know what lies within the Golden Power. You know how _important_ it is that she goes to her final battle ready and prepared to meet it. I won’t guilt trip you into doing this. But surely an eternity in my company is a small price to pay to save Elsa and the kingdom.”

“No, don’t say that!” moaned Andrew. “Of course it isn’t you. It’s what I did to you. How could you ever forgive me? For gods’ sake, how can you stand to look at me? I know you will never forgive me; I don’t deserve it.” He hung his head, and his body trembled.

Elina floated closer to Andrew. “You think I will never forgive you?”

Andrew didn’t look up. “How could you?”

“You’re my family,” said Elina, sighing heavily. “I don’t have a choice.”

Andrew’s head snapped up. Tears glistened in his eyes, sparkling like pearls in clear water. “Oh, Elina,” he said in a shaking voice. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know you are,” said Elina quietly. She embraced him in a hug, and then they stood there – each in each other’s arms, each of them the other’s ghost. The cold light fell around them, and reflected off the steel of the sword with a renewed, dazzling gleam.

The sapphire and the emerald began to vibrate, shaking the bow and pendant in Anna’s hands. Startled, Anna looked between the two objects, and then back at Elina and Andrew. They broke off their hug, and Anna saw, to her astonishment, that they were… colorful. Elina’s eyes shone blue and her dress was a magnificent icy color, and Andrew’s hair was red, his hale cheeks covered in unruly red freckles.

“I know you’re about to do the right thing,” said Elina. “That is why I can forgive you. You can make things right, and you _will_.”

Andrew nodded unsteadily. “Right. You’re right.” He looked at the sword, and Elina did, too. “Then we had better get it over with.”

The two of them went to the sword, and stood on opposite sides of it. Each clasped the grip with their right hands. They looked at Anna.

“You can put those down, now,” said Elina with a smile.

“Oh.” Anna looked between the bow and pendant. “Oh.” She hastily put them on the floor, kneeling as she did, but when she tried to stand up again, the exertion wracked her lungs. A sudden coughing fit overtook her, and she dropped down to her hands and knees, covering her mouth with a hand. Blood splattered thickly on the ground and on her glove, and when the fit subsided, she felt light-headed.

Elina and Andrew gasped together. They fell to their knees beside Anna, each of them, she knew, resting comforting hands on her shoulders. A kind gesture, but she could not feel their ghostly touch. She crouched, shivering.

“She _is_ dying,” said Andrew darkly. “How long do you think she has?”

Elina shook her head. “Not long. The curse is very powerful.”

“I don’t need long,” said Anna, wiping her mouth and rising to her feet. She suddenly felt very dizzy. “I just need to get to the castle…”

Images swam before Anna’s eyes. She had no idea what she was looking at, everything was a blur. She squinted, and thought she could see the sword, as well as Andrew and Elina, rising to their feet simultaneously.

“Is there no way to lift the curse?” asked Andrew.

Elina hesitated. “No,” she said thickly. “But there might be a way to reverse it, to give her some more time. The curse spreads quickly when she is near Elsa, and slowly when they are apart. We could shield her from it, put her to sleep – at least until she is strong enough to walk again.”

Anna blinked. She wanted to shake her head, rub her eyes, but her skull felt thick and heavy, and she dare not move. She wanted nothing more than to lie down. “Sleep?” she repeated. “For how long?”

“For as long as it takes for the curse to subside,” said Elina. “It will never completely go away, but it would give you time.”

“It might give you many decades if you left this country afterwards,” offered Andrew.

“Don’t be absurd,” said Anna severely, before Elina could open her mouth. “I’m not running away.”

Andrew only nodded. “As you say.”

“How long would it take?” Anna asked again.

“It could be many weeks,” said Elina. “Or months.”

“There isn’t time for that,” said Anna with a sudden note of urgency. “Every day that passes that Elsa is in that tower, that the land lay covered in snow…”

“I don’t know how else to put it, Anna,” said Elina sympathetically. “You won’t live long enough to save her at this rate.”

Anna couldn’t say anything to that. Her mouth suddenly felt very dry. She sighed. “All right. If you think it’s for the best.”

Andrew and Elina nodded and turned away, each of them placing their right hand on the sword’s hilt once more. They stared at Anna expectantly.

Anna reached out, slowly and gingerly. Her hands went right through theirs’, the place where they touched spreading out in fast-moving ripples across their bodies, like the way a pebble enters a pond. In the next moment, they were gone, and it was only Anna and the sword, alone in the chamber.

 _Wintersbane_.

It wanted her to pull it free. She felt it tickle her mind, and she heard voices – Elina’s and Andrew’s – echo around from within.

For a brief moment, her head was clear, light. “I will end this winter,” she vowed. “I will save my sister. And I will save the kingdom.”

She took a deep breath, and in a single, fluid motion, freed the sword from the stone.


	25. When the Wind Rises

The cold wrapped itself so quickly around her she hadn’t any time to notice it. All light was snuffed, and everything grew dark and cold.

But consciousness did not leave her so quickly. She blinked. She was standing in a huge, dark room. She could not make out any details in the walls or floor; all was perfectly pitch-black. And yet, she could see her hands, and arms, and her own body clear as day. She was alone in a void.

“Is anyone there?” she called, but there was no answer.

Something appeared an indeterminate distance away. It looked to be about the size of a snowball, and was colored like one, too. Anna started walking towards it, and as she neared, it grew in size. When she was close, it towered above her. Its surface was not smooth, but uneven and sharp, like a roughly hewn block of ice.

Anna looked at the block dubiously. She looked all around. Left, right – or, what she could be reasonably sure substituted for left and right in here. Up, down – same thing. But there was nothing else.

Anna turned back to the block. “I don’t suppose you talk, do you?”

It did not respond, but it did slightly change its hue, as though her voice had lifted a response out of it. The opaque whiteness of its surface began to fade away, slowly being replaced by a transparent sheen with a blue tint. It became like a gigantic crystal, and within, Anna could make out the shapes of someone moving around, walking or pacing.

Anna’s heart jumped to see that it was Elsa, pacing around and around in the same circle, again and again. And she was speaking, talking to herself, saying the same things, over and over:

“She’s safe, now; she’s safe, now; she’s safe, now…”

The expression on her face was blank, emotionless. She spoke in a quick, low voice, and her pace never changed. It was almost hypnotic, entrancing, and Anna stared at her for a long time. Through the crystal, Elsa’s voice echoed ominously – but even not accounting for that, something was wrong with her, Anna knew. Elsa continued in the same loop, unchanging, and Anna found that she couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“Elsa?” she whispered.

Then Elsa stopped quite suddenly, freezing midsentence. “She’s safe, n–” She blinked.

“What?” she looked around wildly. For a fleeting instant, her eyes crossed Anna’s, but they moved on just as quickly. She must not have been able to see her.

Again, Anna spoke. “Elsa?”

Elsa stood straight up, shoulders tense and hands curled into fists. “No, no.” She shook her head with a humorless chuckle. “Anna can’t be here, she’s safe. Away from me…”

The crystal started to redden, streaks of crimson running across its surface like trails of blood. And then a voice spoke out of the darkness, a rumble that rattled Anna’s bones.

“She _is_ safe,” said the voice deeply. “You cannot hurt her, just as you wished.”

_Just as she wished?_

Elsa wrung her hands together as she continued to look all around. “But I… I thought I heard her voice,” she said quietly.

“Simply your imagination,” insisted the voice in an airy tone. “All is as you would have it. Your sister is safe from you, and the kingdom is in good hands.”

It had been a mistake to say that much. Something in the way the crystal shimmered told Anna that. Elsa stopped wringing her hands. Slowly, they fell to her side, and she looked up with a curved brow.

“Good hands?” repeated Elsa. “You mean Anna’s, don’t you? My sister? She is the heiress.”

“Of… course, that is what I meant,” said the voice.

But Elsa did not look convinced. She looked down again, brow furrowed. “Ah, but… how could anyone know that Anna is the heiress? I neglected to tell her. Before I…” She shuddered and closed her eyes. “Before I defiled her, before I _hurt_ her…”

“Yes,” said the voice quickly. “Yes, do not think about it. Just remember that she is safe, now. That is all that matters.”

 Elsa nodded a tiny, fractional amount. “Yes,” she repeated monotonously, her eyelids drooping. “She is safe, n–”

Something was definitely wrong, here. It was like Elsa was stuck in a trance. With a running start, Anna gave a terrific leap and threw herself against the crystal, banging on the transparent surface with her fists. Each blow sent tremors thundering across the surface of the crystal, shaking it visibly.

“ELSA!” she screamed. “ELSAAAA!”

Elsa’s head snapped up. Her eyes widened with horrified shock as she noticed Anna. “Anna…?”

“He’s lying to you!” shouted Anna. “He’s lying to you! Don’t listen to him! You can stop this!”

An awful _boom_ echoed through the void, and the voice spoke out like a grinding avalanche. **_“It’s you.”_**

Anna banged the crystal again. A tiny crack appeared in the surface. “Elsa! **_I’m coming!_** ”

Elsa continued to gape. “Anna?” she whispered, her voice high and quiet.

A sudden force hit Anna like an immense wave. It sent her reeling, spinning, churning through the dark waves of the void. She plunged into black, icy water, and everything became still.

* * *

 

Wind whistled through the needled branches of the evergreen canopy above. From a gnarled hole in a tall, old tree, a squirrel poked out its head and looked all around. Everything was as it usually was, which is to say it was white and dead. The trees were still covered in that deathly pale blanket of ice, and whatever nourishment they and their shorter, softer brethren once provided was plucked clean or hidden from a land that could not sustain itself. Everything was choking on the cold.

The squirrel wrinkled its nose. “That is very fine,” it thought, sarcastically, to itself. “Yet another day the winter will not abate! That marks too many for me to count.” It was not enthused with the prospect of relaying this information back to its friends. It knew they would demand a second opinion, and it knew they would send him out again. He was the strongest, though not the youngest, of the small colony of squirrels that inhabited this old tree, and his name was Lymyrtyn. The tree, also, was clearly put-off to be attending them. And once in awhile, back before the Long Cold, the Tree-walkers would come down from the north and, with their strange salves and odd music, relax the tree again. But neither had the tree seen any of them since the Long Cold had begun, and it was very grumpy for it.

They had all felt the death of the wolf. Old Woman Nyssyfyne said that was the end of it. She had the bushiest tail and the wiliest whiskers of any squirrel in the colony, and was constantly complaining.

“I knew when our queen was killed, the forest would soon follow,” Nyssyfyne would often say. “I said that when she died, we would be cursed with a blizzard. But did anyone listen to me? No-o, they did _not!”_

“Truly,” thought Lymyrtyn bitterly, as he stood now in the midst of that blizzard, “Nyssyfyne is a gifted master of the arcane art of post-cognition.”

Gingerly, Lymyrtyn proceeded out into the cold, sniffing about for any hint of news, or really any hint of anything. Even a predatory hawk would be a welcome sight. It would mean they were finding living things, after all – even if those things were soon to be rendered dead by their claws, it altogether boded well if things ended up getting killed by hawks rather than the sheer cold.

To Lymyrtyn’s great surprise, it wasn’t snowing that day. Curiosity prodded him to the end of the branch he was on, and with a coiled leap, he jumped to another branch, about a foot away. This one belonged to another tree. He scurried on, and sniffed again. Still, nothing. Sighing, and silently cursing his colony, he continued on. He’d probably die of cold out here, searching, fruitlessly, for the hope of the colony. He’d die of cold and nobody would ever know, and they’d send out another squirrel in his stead. They might even come across his body. “Damn pity,” they’d say. “What, him dying?” “No, that he didn’t report back to us.”

He jumped from branch to branch and got to the trunk. He circled around and went out to the end of a branch on the other side. What a waste of time this was. He sniffed again.

He froze.

His nose wrinkled. Not the bad kind of wrinkle.

Frowning with disbelief, he looked around, curiously. It was coming from the other side of that big pine. He hated running about in pine trees, but sometimes there was no aid for it. He jumped, and scurried through the needles, coming out on the other end.

His branch was some twenty feet above a remarkable clearing. It was not remarkable for being a clearing – those were quite common, actually, and notable as a place you never wanted to be for lack of friendly trees to climb up – but for what was in the clearing. Where the rest of the forest was covered in snow, here, it was as though the snow had melted, and in its place was frosty, dewed grass, green as you please – green as he remembered.

It was remarkable for another reason, as well: in the center of it lay a human girl, prone and fast asleep.

This was puzzling for an enormous number of reasons which it would be tedious to recount here. Suffice to say Lymyrtyn had no idea what to make of this. He sniffed, then did a double-take. Did she…?

He leaned over the edge of the branch and peered. Yes, it was a human girl, all right. As humans went, she was a short one. He couldn’t guess the age – that was more Ymyltyr’s specialty – but she was probably an adolescent. One of her hands was wrapped around the grip of a long sword. That figured – humans were always carrying swords or other things like that. She had hair like those red flowers that humans were always conjuring out of wood, and she was wearing woven plant-skin the color of the grass all around her. But most importantly – and Lymyrtyn had gotten quite good at noticing this – she was _breathing._

Lymyrtyn sniffed again. There was no doubt. He turned tail and dashed back in the direction of the old tree. His tiny heart hammered with excitement.

The girl had smelled like spring.

* * *

 

Feeling came first to the tips of Anna’s fingers and toes. She grunted softly. She felt very tired, as though she was waking up from a long nap, and did not want to stand up or really do anything just yet. A bitter wind tickled her nose and face with such an odd insistence that it felt like it was actually trying to wake her up.

The impulse was strong to wave it off. “Five more minutes,” she thought groggily. “I don’t want to wake up.”

That’s when it hit her. She was awake. _Awake._

She forced her eyes open. The sky was a chilly gray. Beautiful. The fringes of pine needles touched the edge of her vision and framed the clouds above. They were moving quickly. The wind was strong.

She took a breath. Strong, sharp air cut her nostrils. She was awake.

She sat up, and that’s when she realized the sword in her hand. She recoiled from it, momentarily, as she looked at it in bewilderment. There it was with its ocean-blue hilt and its sky-blue steel. A magic sword, even to look at it. Slowly, she reached for it again, and wrapped her fingers around the grip. It felt good to hold. _Wintersbane._ The memories flooded back to her. Asleep, yes, she had been asleep – they had warned her about that.

A start jolted her. How long had she been asleep? She looked around for any clue, but there were none to be found in… wherever she was. A forest? Yes – a forest. It reminded her of home in winter. Her old home, the forest she had grown up in.

She got to her feet. The movement upset one of her braids, and she caught it in the corner of her vision. It was red – her hair was red, not white. And she felt _good._ Strong.

They had bought her time, though at cost of the same.

“Thank you,” said Anna uneasily, looking at her sword and the clearing. She was standing in grass. “Um. If you guys can hear me… er, how long have I been asleep?” She paused, and looked around a little more. “For that matter, how did I get here?”

There was no response. The sword was dormant. She sighed, and checked her belongings: they were all secure, except for her shield. A brief moment of panic stung her. Where was her shield? She tried to remember, but couldn’t recall ever retrieving it after she had been thrown in the dungeon.

She noticed the flute, and an idea came to her. She ripped it off her belt. It was cold and covered in frost. She brushed it off and tested the sound. When she was satisfied, she closed her eyes and tried to remember his song.

Kaepora Gaebora’s song. That strange, little tune.

She wrapped her lips around the mouthpiece and blew. After the last note was played, she dropped the flute and looked skyward.

Sure enough, mere moments later, a black speck appeared in the sky. It swooped towards her with maddening speed, revealing itself to be a diving crow.

It alighted on a branch at the edge of the clearing.

“Anna!” it yelped. “My word, I _thought_ that was you, though one can never be sure these days who is playing what for _whom_ , though I must say I was reasonably sure that it was you, but I had discounted that possibility on account of it having been so long and everyone being so sure and all that you were dead – ”

“Kaepora,” said Anna, a bemused smile tugging the corner of her lips. It was so good to see him, she didn’t have the words for it. “Slow down, please.”

“Ehm,” said Kaepora, blinking his beady eyes, “right. Yes. Sorry about that. You know how I can get. Yes, well, enough of that – _Anna!_ Goodness gracious, where have you been?”

He stopped, actually stopped talking, and looked at her expectantly. “I’ve been asleep,” said Anna.

 _“Asleep?”_ cried Kaepora. “All this time? Now, I’ve heard of needing an hour or two for beauty sleep, but _months?_ ”

That was exactly what Anna did not want to hear. “Kaepora,” she interrupted carefully, “how long has it been, exactly? What’s the date?”

“Well,” said Kaepora, ruffling his feathers, “the last anyone had heard of you was the turn of August, last year. Martin said the official word was that you were in the custody of the Lord Regent, but rumors began to spread that you had escaped. When nobody had heard anything for months, we all assumed that you had been… executed.”

Anna’s heart sank. “And the date?”

Kaepora shuffled on his perch. “About a fortnight out from Midsummer’s Day.”

Midsummer’s Day. That meant it was mid-June. And that meant that she had been gone for nearly eleven months.

“I’ve been gone for a year,” said Anna quietly.

“More or less,” confirmed Kaepora. “And you said you were… sleeping?”

Anna did not answer. Her mind was racing with too many other things. “A year,” she repeated, hollowly. A lot could happen, in a year. Anna knew that better than most. And what had happened to the country, in that time? To everyone? To the castle, to Elsa?

“Kaepora,” said Anna suddenly, “what happened while I was gone? Is Elsa still alive? Is she still in the castle? Do you know?”

Kaepora shuffled uncomfortably. “We don’t know anything about your queen or what goes on in the castle,” said Kaepora. “For all we know, she has also perished. All we know for sure is dark clouds continue to gather above the Arenborg, and an endless winter continues to reign over all.”

“An endless winter…?” repeated Anna. Suddenly, like a rush of fire in her veins, a maddening realization surged through Anna. “An endless winter!” she shouted, overjoyed. “Do you know what that means?”

“Erm,” said Kaepora, wincing at the outburst, “that we’re all going to die?”

“No!” said Anna. “That she’s _alive! Elsa’s still alive!”_

Kaepora twisted his head, giving Anna a shrewd look with his beady eyes. “Wait one minute, you’re not saying that Elsa is the _cause_ of this winter… are you?”

“No!” said Anna, again, then she shook her head. “Well, yes, technically she is – but it’s not her fault. She’s been tricked: she’s Lord Hans’s prisoner. But so long as the winter goes on, she is still alive. Don’t you see? There’s still _hope!”_ With that, she brandished her sword, and gave it a practice swing. It felt light in her hands, and the steel was so sharp it whistled through the air. “That means all I have to do is go to the castle and kill Hans and free Elsa, and – ”

“Woah, there!” said Kaepora, flapping his wings. “You can’t just march into the Arenborg all willy-nilly! The Lord Regent is Lord Regent for a _reason_ , you know! He has all the authority of the realm at his beck and call!”

Anna looked at the crow as the words sank in. She felt somewhat deflated. “Right,” she said. “Right. So…” She bit her lower lip as she pondered. “I’ll need to think of another plan.”

“You’ll need allies,” said Kaepora. “People who can help you bring down the Lord Regent. Others who resist his rule.”

Anna lowered her chin and pondered. “Like who?” She thought for a moment. “The… Valkyrie? Is she still alive?”

In slow motion, the crow nodded.

Anna nodded as well. “Then I need to find her, join forces; I’m sure, between us, we can find some way to get past the Lord Regent’s defenses.”

“Not so fast,” said Kaepora, holding up a wing. “The Valkyrie _is_ still alive, but it has been a long time since the start of her rebellion, and she is but one of the Jarls of the realm. Many lords that _would_ have joined her rebellion are helpless so long as they and their loved ones remain the hostages of Lord Brendan Burrows.”

“That’s right,” said Anna, remembering. “I remember, before he left, Martin told me something about Brendan locking up the guests of a gathering he had hosted.”

Kaepora squawked in affirmation. “Indeed! It was meant to be a meeting of Arendelle’s lords, but it was a ploy to gather them in one place. Lord Morning and Lord Hugoss’s sons were foremost among them. Now the House of Morning is in the control of his Lordship’s younger brother, and Lord Hugoss dare not act while his sons are in danger. After the Lord of Eastgreen died, with no viable heir under the vassalage of Arendelle, Lord Hans assumed it as part of the Royal Demesne. You better believe that Weselton didn’t like that, so Lord Hans had the old duke executed – he was still locked up in the Arenborg, after all.” Kaepora fluttered his wings and jumped on his branch. “War and strife all across the kingdom, and this never-ending winter to boot! They mutter and call it the end-times, though Martin lets no such talk fly in his company.”

Anna nodded absently, thinking on the crow’s words. “Wait a minute,” she looked up suddenly. “Did you mention… Martin? You said his name before, too. How do you –”

“…know Martin?” interrupted Kaepora. He squawked with laughter, a loud, popping noise that would have rattled the leaves if there were any on the trees to hear it. “He’s my friend.”

Anna continued to stare, utterly bewildered. “Since when are you and Martin friends?”

“It’s a funny story,” said Kaepora. “Do you recall that time you summoned me to your window? Well, after I had left, I was flying low over the battlements – and suddenly an arrow shot out and nicked my wing. I went down, and I was terribly surprised to see a boy – a _boy!_ – was my vanquisher. I pleaded for my life, and he was terribly shocked that I could talk, and, well, the rest is history.” He hopped on the branch. “I’ve been his aide and courier ever since. I wonder that he never told you about me? Ah, well.”

Anna’s heart pounded furiously. Martin, of _course_ – he had escaped with a small band. It wasn’t much, but it was _something._ “Kaepora,” she said urgently, “where is Martin, now? What is he doing? Is he safe?”

Kaepora gave Anna a shrewd look. “Unfortunately, I cannot tell you where he is,” he said. “That information is not mine to give away. But I can tell you who he is with: the Valkyrie, and your friend, the little green-haired witch. They have been on the run. I act as their spy and informant, flying about the kingdom and seeing what goes on.” He twisted his head. “I wonder what I should tell them about you?”

Anna looked down. This was wonderful news. A flame kindled in her chest and roared with sincere vigor. Hope. She had _hope._ And she had a plan.

She gripped the hilt of her sword tightly. “Kaepora, where am I?”

“Where are you? In a clearing in the middle of the Rockwoods.”

Anna nodded. Somehow, that sounded right. “Tell them that I am going back to Burrowstown,” she said slowly. “Tell them I need their help.”

“All right,” said Kaepora. “ _You_ need their help – and who shall I say are you? The rogue knight? The lady protector? The third one-third of a triumvirate? Who are you?”

 _Who are you?_ The question hit with surprising hardness. Her heart was beating so soundly that it filled her throat. Voices swam in her head. _“I am Anna, Sword of Autumn.” “Ser Anna, Knight of Crystalwater.” “Ser Anna, the Lady Protector.” “The Green Devil.” “A whirlwind of steel and blade.”_

_“You’re the best younger sister a girl could ask for.”_

And that’s when it hit her, with enough force that it took her breath away. _The best younger sister a girl could ask for._ She was Elsa’s sister. She was a princess of Arendelle. She was royalty _._ The revelation filled her with sudden anxiety. What did she know about being a princess? Who would look at her – at _her_ – and think “princess?” And who would even believe such an outlandish claim? It burned her to think of it. No, she could not say she was a princess. For that matter, every answer now seemed absurd, fake, and beneath all of it was the uncertainty.

She looked at Kaepora and gave a half-hearted shrug. “Tell them ‘Anna’,” she said softly. “Just ‘Anna’.”

Kaepora stared at her, head cocked slightly to the side. He was quiet for a long time until, finally, he spoke, in a low, smoky voice. “You smell like spring,” he said softly. “Look to our coming when the wind rises.” And with that, he alighted off the branch and flew away into the gray, murky sky.

Anna watched him go. When time enough had passed, she shut her eyes tight and shook her head. _Who are you?_ It disturbed her to think she couldn’t answer that question. She remembered a time when she’d have proudly said “Anna!” or “Ser Anna!” The titles she had been given; the names she invented for herself. How she had reveled in them, too. The _Sword of Autumn_ – had she really said that? It seemed so long ago. And now she was a princess, a title of utmost respect, of the highest prestige – and yet, for some reason, it disquieted her more than it gave her pride.

  1. This was not the time to think on such things. She had work to do. _Elsa._



The very thought was enough. She smiled, eyes still shut tight. She found herself thinking about that time at the lagoon. Warmth flooded through her again. She opened her eyes, hefted her sword, and sheathed it behind her like a great sword. _Elsa._ With not a second look back, Anna ventured forth into the frosty woods.

It was not storming, though it was clear that was but a small reprieve for the forest. Icicles as thick as arms dangled from sour gray branches. Thickets of evergreens offered the only color, and even they seemed weary and hard-put by the weather. Still, _something_ had changed. Anna dared to imagine the trees stirred at her approach, and stretched at her departure, in the meantime whispering amongst themselves. Anna _knew_ this forest. She had grown up in it. It was not dead, not yet – it was too tough for that.

Anna wasn’t sure exactly where she was going. So far, “ahead” had seemed right, _felt_ right. It was a strange feeling: she had no bearings, but on some level, in some way she could not describe, she knew that the path ahead was the path to go.

It was a short while after that she came upon a trail through the forest. It was a dirt road, and would have been obvious as such were it not for the thick carpet of snow that lay over it. It was narrow, but not so narrow that a cart could not travel it comfortably. A cart, or a sled. She looked more closely and saw fresh-laid tracks – the footprints of a beast of burden, and the rails of the sled it had pulled.

Anna immediately thought of Sven and Kristoff. The last time she saw them…

She turned her head to look down the west side of the path. It snaked off into the woods. It was a safe bet that that way lie Burrowstown. She took in an unsteady breath. She hoped that Kristoff and Anders and Oaken and Astrid were all right. She hoped.

The trail went on a long ways. It eventually curved southwards, and soon after that she noticed, further down the trail, a group of men on horseback. They were going the opposite way, and the sounds of their mounts and conversation preceded the sight of them by a fair bit.

Anna paused. There was no telling, at this distance, whether they be friend or foe. She doubted she could fight them all off – they looked about five, or six. And if she could count them, they could certainly see her.

She dashed off the side of the trail, hiding behind an old oak tree. She liberated her bow from its place on her back and notched one of Martin’s iron arrows. And then, she waited in silence. Her breathing sounded very loud, but soon was overshadowed by the noise of the men.

“…now, how far do you reckon we have to go to get to the bottom of this?” said one voice.

“As far as it takes,” replied another. “His Greatness don’t accept no half-assed work.”

“Half-assed work is all the great Lord Burrows is going to get if he keeps working me to the bone like this.”

 _Lord Burrows’ men_ , thought Anna. She fingered the feather on her arrow.

“Quit your belly-aching. Hey – what’s that?”

The voices were much closer now, and by the sound of it, they all pulled up their mounts for a stop.

“Footprints, coming this way,” said one, and Anna all but winced with exasperation. _Stupid –_ of course she left footprints in the _snow._

“They just disappear, though,” said another. “You don’t reckon he what left them just up and flew away, do you?”

“Just to be sure, we had better scour the area.” The sounds of dismounting followed. “Fan out and look for anything suspicious.”

Anna heard the clod of boots crunching through snow. It went out in all directions, though one pair was definitely growing louder. Sure enough, around the trunk of the very tree Anna was hiding behind came a man dressed heavily in fur and leather. His gaze was further out, though, into the forest. Anna held her breath – and, somehow, miraculously, he did not seem to notice her. He had a hand-axe strapped to his belt, and he continued into the woods, going right by her. When he had walked another yard away, Anna raised her bow.

She jumped out from behind the tree, another arrow already notched. She spotted two targets. One was still on his mount, another was still tending to his, tying it up to a tree by the trail. Anna raised the bow and fired. The arrow _thrummed_ and lodged itself in the man’s neck. The man on his mount reared and backed away. Anna was about to go for him, when a whistling noise from her left distracted her. She dodged, and a hand axe sailed right by the place her head had been a moment ago. It flew harmlessly past.

The man was on her, now. His eyes were wild, and he wore a rugged, iron half-helm over his rusty red hair. He lifted an axe and swung it down at her. Anna ducked and rolled to the side, dropping her bow in the snow and drawing Wintersbane _._ It filled her with a satisfying hum, and she clutched the grip tighter.

The man swung his axe again. He had a shield in his other hand, and his swing was wide. He was half-again as tall as she was, and probably stronger, too. She swung her sword into the man’s axe, catching it in the neck and dislodging it from his grip with tremendous force. Right – her gauntlets. She moved in close and gave him a mighty kick to the pelvis. He stumbled backwards, tripping over a root to land on his back. Anna wasted no time putting her sword through his stomach.

She pulled her sword free and heard shouts. “Get her!” She whirled around to meet the blade of the man who had come up from behind, and twisted left to meet the blade of the man flanking her. A third was emerging from between two trees. And the fourth was sitting on his mount, merely watching and doing nothing else.

She bounced between the attacks of the two men at her side, backing away to get a better position. One of them seemed insistent on trying to get behind her, but as long as she kept backing away – _clang_ – he couldn’t.

The third was almost on her. That might be too much. The man was trying to flank again, and – ahah! Miraculously, his foot snarled in a root hidden beneath the snow, and he went down summarily.

The distraction in his comrade lasted a second too long. Anna moved in and slashed once, twice, three times. He collapsed, splitting blood, just as the third man charged in to replace him. He was reckless – Anna moved inside the man’s attack, and impaled him on her sword.

When he had fallen too, all that remained were the man, tripped in the snow, and the man on horseback, still watching silently. Anna looked at him for a moment before turning to the fallen. He was tangled in his cloak, and hopeless. Anna put the tip of her sword at his neck.

“P-Please, my lady,” he choked, “don’t kill me.”

“Where is Lord Burrows?”

“In – In Burrowstown, my lady. In – In his castle.” He looked confused. “As he always is, m – my lady.”

“And where are his prisoners?”

“Prisoners?” repeated the man, blinking.

“His hostages,” said Anna, a little impatiently. “Lord Morning and the three Hugosses.”

“Oh, um, they’re in the fort – er, the castle. The castle dungeons, that is.” He blinked. “Please, my lady, I never meant no harm, just let me go.”

Anna gave him a baleful look, and then nodded slightly. She retracted her sword, strapping it to her back again, and marched over to the man still ahorse. He was dressed heavily in fur, his hands and feet wrapped in thick wool. His face was masked by a great woolen scarf.

Behind her, Anna heard the fallen man finally get to his feet. She turned and watched as he dashed into the woods, arms flailing wildly.

The man ahorse dismounted, and Anna gave him her attention again. “I’m assuming there’s a reason you didn’t fight with the rest,” she said. Her thought – hope – was that this man was a potential ally. Though she knew it was just as likely he was another enemy, albeit one with greater discernment than his comrades.

“Of course,” came a familiar voice. “I try not to fight my friends.” He removed his scarf, and Anna’s stomach dropped like a stone.

“Kristoff,” she said softly, and tears filled her eyes. It was him, all right, and the sight of him stripped away all vestiges of hardness, and she felt nothing but the sweet and sour melancholy of seeing an old friend again. She leaped forward and embraced him in a tight hug.

“Och, Anna,” grunted Kristoff, “you’re choking me.”

She relaxed her hold on him just a bit. But she needed a hug right now, Kristoff’s comfort be damned. She pulled away with a heavy sigh. For a while, they stood and said nothing.

Kristoff looked into the woods, in the direction the man had fled. “You probably should have killed him, too.”

Anna shrugged. “He asked me not to.”

Kristoff snorted. “That’s a handy trick. I’ll keep that in mind the next time someone has their blade against my neck.”

Anna looked at him sharply. “I hope that’s not a situation you find yourself in, often.”

She expected Kristoff to smile, to say something flippant or irreverent – but instead, he returned her sharp look with one of his own. “It’s _the_ situation living under the rule of Lord Brendan Burrows.”

Anna sighed. “Right. I’m – sorry. How have you been?”

“ _Other_ than chafing under the tyranny of a spoiled noble kid?” Kristoff made a play at appearing thoughtful. “I dunno, I guess I’ve been all right.”

Even the attempt at levity was enough to lift Anna’s spirits. She smiled at him for a moment, and then turned serious. “I’m assuming you get by pretending to serve him?”

“That’s right,” said Kristoff. “I’m one of his scouts. I keep to myself, mostly, and I don’t report directly to him. He doesn’t even know who I am. Sven and I escape his gaze by hiding in plain sight.”

“And where is Sven?” asked Anna.

“What, don’t you recognize him?” Kristoff gestured to the furry horse he rode in on – the one with no antlers at all, but, that face…

“Good gods,” breathed Anna. “It _is_ Sven – but I just assumed he was a horse… What happened to his antlers?”

“Anna,” said Kristoff in the tone of voice that suggested he expected _better_ from her, “what happens to all reindeers’ antlers in the winter?”

At this, Sven trotted up to her and gave her an affectionate prod with his muzzle. He sniffed at something. “I can’t believe you guys are okay,” said Anna, partly in awe. “This is fantastic news.” Her spirits faltered a bit. “What about…?”

Kristoff immediately understood. “Anders and Oaken are his prisoners,” he said darkly. “Same as those lords you just mentioned.”

Anna nodded slightly. “And… Astrid?”

Kristoff pursed his lips. “Nobody knows what happened to Astrid. One day, she simply up and… vanished. Her cottage has been off-limits ever since.”

That was not a good sign. A feeling of dread crept through her. “All right,” she said, making a fist with one of her hands. “Then Anders, Oaken, and Astrid are on the list.” She turned around and went to pick up her bow, which she strapped to her back.

“Erm,” said Kristoff, trailing behind her. “List?”

“The list of people I need to rescue from Lord Burrows,” said Anna, matter-of-factly. None of the horses had fled in the fighting, and were all milling around on the trail where their riders had left them. She probably shouldn’t take any with her. One-by-one, she went to the horses and smacked them on the rear, and one-by-one, they galloped into the woods, alone.

Kristoff watched her do this with evident befuddlement. “So… if I understand you right, your plan is to just walk into Burrowstown and… free the prisoners?”

“No,” said Anna, striding to one of the fallen men. She pried the wooden shield off his arm. It was painted on the front: a black wolf on a field of gray. She considered its size and weight for a moment, before she discarded it with distaste. “My plan is to _sneak_ into Burrowstown and free the prisoners.”

“And how, exactly, do you plan on sneaking into Burrowstown? It’s not exactly a… a labyrinth.” He gesticulated with evident exasperation. “Chances are, you’re likely to be seen, no matter how sneaky you are. And you’re a wanted woman, might I remind you.”

That was a good point. Anna looked at the fallen men, again. “I’ll take one of their cloaks and go in disguise, then.”

Kristoff laid a hand on her shoulder. She turned around and was surprised to see a look of serious concern on his face. “Anna, the charges against you… they say that you kidnapped the queen, that you killed innocent people. And I just want… well, that is to say, I wanted to know…”

“If it’s true?” finished Anna, suddenly feeling cold. “Do you really think I would do something like that?” She shook off his hand.

The hurt expression on Kristoff’s face softened her at once. “No, of course not, Anna. And even if it was true, I, well – we’re like family, you and I. And you gotta stick up for your family. It’s just…” He shrugged. “I’m little more than a simple peasant. I’d like to know what I’m getting – what I’ve _gotten_ into.”

The longer she looked into Kristoff’s big, sincere eyes, the more she felt she owed him an explanation. And she began to feel a little guilty about losing her temper. She sighed, and shook her head. “You’re no more a peasant than I am,” she said. “All right, here’s the story.”

Standing on the snowy road, Anna hastily retold the events of the prior year, including the matter of the Golden Power and Elsa’s magic. Kristoff looked more awed than surprised to hear that Elsa had the magic of the old Ice Queen, and Anna knew he was already thinking about palaces made entirely of ice.

“And then, well, one day, it all got a bit out of hand,” said Anna, and her tone became sheepish. She looked at the fingers on her gauntlets. “We, er, well, the queen and I were _talking_ , and – ”

“Why did you say it like that?”

“Say what?” Anna didn’t look up.

“Talking. You said it _talking._ ”

“No, it’s – it’s just, well, the queen and I were talking privately, and – ”

“Ohh,” said Kristoff, drawing out the sound. Anna looked up and felt the blush blooming in her cheeks and Kristoff smiled broadly. “Oh, you dog. You and the queen?” He gave her a light rap on the shoulder.

“Shut up,” Anna pushed his arm away, blushing furiously. “And anyway, it’s not like that. We – we _kissed_ , and – ”

But Kristoff wasn’t listening. He was laughing, now. “Oh, man, Anna. You and the queen _kissed?_ So, you’re in love, now? And now she’s being held by the bad guy and you have to go save her so you can live happily ever after? Wow, Anna, I’m – this is _great!_ Wait, so, if a queen marries a girl, are there two queens, or would you be a princess, or…?”

“Kristoff!” yelled Anna. She was on the verge of tears. All Kristoff’s speculation was, well, Anna couldn’t pretend it wasn’t _exactly_ what she had fantasized about, but… it ached her heart to think about it, to know the truth… “Kristoff, it’s not like that. We kissed, yes, and that’s when her magic…” She trailed off, and felt her head drop. “I’m _dying_ , Kristoff.”

Kristoff said nothing. She could feel him stare at her. She felt herself go on, automatically. “Her touch is deadly to me,” she said quietly. “I’m cursed, and… it’s not her fault, but now the kingdom is in danger because of it. Because of _me._ I will…” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “I will certainly die if I go back to her.”

Silence. Kristoff cleared his throat. “One thing I’ve learned from my years being your friend is that there’s probably no arguing you out of a bad idea,” he said, in a rather defeated tone. “Is there?”

Anna shook her head. “It’s what I must do. If not me, then who else?”

“I don’t want you to die, Anna.”

Anna had to shut her eyes tight. _We all die, sooner or later_ – that’s how she wanted to respond. But she knew there was little comfort in that. “Me either,” she said quietly.

Kristoff sighed heavily. A gust of wind whistled in the tree branches overhead, and he looked up. “I suppose you don’t know why the storm has abated here, do you?”

“What’s that?”

“The storm. The big snowstorm?” Kristoff gestured to the sky, still cloudy. “Everywhere else, it’s snowing like crazy – blizzarding everywhere. But just a few hours ago, the storm suddenly halted all around here. That’s what we were sent out to investigate.”

A tickle in Anna’s mind told her what it was at once. She drew out Wintersbane carefully, and held it level in front of her. The bluish-white metal was stained with blood. “It’s this,” she said with confidence. “The sword of winter’s end. _Wintersbane,_ they called it.”

“No,” said Kristoff in disbelief. “That’s not _really_ the sword of legend, is it?”

“It is,” said Anna. “This sword has the power to end this winter.”

Kristoff frowned. “It did that in the legend by _killing_ the Ice Queen.”

“I will do better,” promised Anna, and she felt the sword respond. She replaced it again, and looked Kristoff in the eyes. “You should go on ahead. We must not enter Burrowstown in company. We can rendezvous there.”

Kristoff snapped to attention and nodded tersely. “We should meet in Astrid’s cabin. That place is off-limits, so we’ll be able to lie low there and come up with a strategy. I’ll report back to Lord Brendan’s men, say that we got, I dunno, ambushed by some bandits, and then I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay, then,” said Anna, and she went to one of the fallen men to take his cloak. “I’ll see you there.”

Quickly, Kristoff went to Sven and saddled up. With a _hyah_ , he was off down the path, Sven kicking up clots of snow behind them as they went. Anna found a large, gray woolen cloak on one of the fallen men and threw it over her shoulders. Then, she went on down the path after Kristoff, halting momentarily to say a short prayer over the fallen.

She found herself thinking, again, about what she was – about being a princess – and how she hadn’t told Kristoff. He had asked for the full story: it would have been meet to say. A small part of her even found light in the idea of it. She could just imagine the look on Kristoff’s face.

The smile faded from her own. She knew why she didn’t say anything. She didn’t _want_ to. The thought of her being a princess still made her feel uncomfortable, absurd. Who was she, really? What was she? She pulled the edges of her cloak more tightly around her shoulders and put her head into the wind.

It was nightfall by the time she had reached the outskirts of Burrowstown, recognizable from the short hill that sat at the forest’s edge. She crested the hill and looked out, astonished to see the village much-changed. There was no storm here, either, and a crescent moon peeked out from a gap in the clouds, shedding its silvery light all over land below. As she remembered, there were the clusters of cabins, and nearby, at the end of the pasture where sheep used to graze, was the lake – but the lake was frozen now, its surface as smooth and shiny in the half-moonlight as polished steel. Crooked stone watchtowers ringed the village, looming over the village like bent, hungry ravens over a field of rotting carcasses. But most significant of all was the Lord Mayor’s manor that sat on the hill at the end of the city: it was a manor no more, instead now an impressive, wooden fortress with thick walls of gray timber. From a flagpole high above waved the banner of House Burrows: a black wolf on a gray field, clearly illuminated by the lantern lights that blazed out of the tower windows below.

Anna stopped in place as she took in the sight. She assumed that the prisoners were being kept in that fortress, and her heart sank to realize that it looked rather impressive. Not as impressive as the Arenborg, to be sure, but she hadn’t the faintest idea how she’d break in and out without alarming the entire guard.

There was time to worry about that later: for now, she had to find Kristoff. He said they should meet at Astrid’s cottage, which, Anna knew, was on the other side of the village. Ensuring her hood obscured her face, she pocketed her hands and entered the village, walking at a brisk pace.

The first place she passed by was Oaken’s old cabin: it was still there, but clearly nobody lived there any more. The windows were dark and the door was chipped and looked in disrepair. Anna knew they moved out, and had set up a new life at the foot of the North Mountain, but still it made her rather sad to see the old cabin in such a state. In one sense, she felt like part of her had grown up in that cabin. She remembered the dinners she ate there, and the stories they had swapped. She lingered only for a second in front of the door before, remembering her mission, she wheeled away from it and continued down the main road.

Nobody was out at this time of night, which suited Anna rather well, but also gave her a crawling feeling of suspicion. The streets were truly deserted, but not for lack of people to walk them, evidently, as most of the village did seem occupied. Anna checked her paranoia: it was bitterly cold, and after dark. There was truly no reason for anyone to be wandering around outside. Still…

She turned a corner down a street that forked. The right fork would cut a path directly to Astrid’s cabin, and the left fork went to the town square. She could see it at the end of the path, and it was, to her surprise, illuminated by a fire pit in the middle, around which about three guards were clustered. They were cradling their arms and huddling underneath thick woolen cloaks, their spears lazily leaning against their shoulders. They didn’t seem interested in anything other than the fire, but still Anna tried to adopt a lower profile as she speedily walked to the right fork and out of their area of vision.

No sooner had she gone down the right fork did she hear voices coming from around a cabin to her right. She stopped dead in her tracks and strained to hear, leaning in the direction of the noise, her heart pounding. But, in fact, they didn’t really seem to be talking, but… moaning.

“Oh, yes, please, like that…”

Curiosity overwhelming her, Anna went forward on tip-toes. The cabin in question was squat with a tall, slanted roof, and didn’t seem to have anyone in at the moment. Anna got to the edge of the cabin and peeked around.

She saw two people, standing and locked in a fierce embrace. One of them had the other pressed up against the cabin wall, and they were kissing madly. Anna looked closer and saw they were both women, one with short, dark hair, and the other with long, curly blonde hair.

Anna watched, mesmerized, as the two women continued to kiss. She wasn’t sure why, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away. She felt her heart pound in her throat.

The woman with blonde hair pulled away and flipped her hair around her head, opening her eyes for just a moment. That moment was long enough: out of the corner of her gaze, she locked eyes with Anna, and jumped backwards with a yelp. The black-haired woman also opened her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she said, before she noticed Anna, and stiffened up.

“Sorry, we don’t mean to be out after curfew!” said the blonde woman quickly.

Anna, her face burning, stepped out fully from behind the cabin and stared stupidly. “Um, er, what?” she said.

The blonde woman blinked, and let out an audible sigh of relief. “Oh, thank heavens, I thought you were a soldier.” The two women relaxed visibly.

“I’m sorry,” said Anna, blinking. “I, er, didn’t mean to, ah, interrupt you, or anything…”

The dark-haired woman gave Anna a baleful stare, but the blonde woman gave a wave of her hand and laughed it off nervously. “That’s okay.” She put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “No harm, no foul. You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

Anna stared at the women. They were dressed quite warmly in scarves and thick wool coats, but still it made no sense to her why they would be… _out_ in this weather.

“Why would I do that?” asked Anna, and another question immediately came to mind. “Why are you out here, anyway? It’s terribly cold.”

The blonde woman gave Anna a searching look. “Cold?” she repeated. “It’s not that cold. When it was storming it got a bit chilly, but this is a fine spring day compared to what we usually get. Look!” At this, she pointed to the sky, a dark, sonorous blue, flecked with clumps of gray clouds. “It’s not even snowing!”

Anna thought this was very strange, and not just because the ground was still covered in snow. “It’s pretty cold weather to be” – she felt her cheeks redden – “to be kissing your girlfriend in.”

The blonde woman just shrugged. “It feels okay to me. And, anyway, you must not be from around here if you don’t know about the curfew.”

“What curfew?”

She waved an arm vaguely. “The Lord Mayor’s curfew. Nobody is allowed to wander after dark, or else…” She frowned. “We live on opposite sides of town. This is the only time we can get away, so… please don’t tell anyone.”

Anna looked between the two women, noting a soft, pleading look on each of their faces. It wasn’t like she _could_ tell anyone, from the sound of it: she was breaking curfew too. Still, she could easily reassure them. She gave a friendly smile. “Yeah, okay,” she said quietly. She slowly backed away.

The blonde gave a wave, just as the black-haired woman snuggled up to her, shivering slightly.

“Give me a kiss,” said the black-haired woman as Anna turned away. “I’m cold.”

Anna left the two behind her and continued down the road, moving at a brisker pace than previously. A cold wind slapped the road, and Anna shivered and wondered how on Earth those two women could stand it. And on top of that, she was trying hard _not_ to think about their impassioned embrace, the way they cradled one-another in their arms; and she tried not to imagine herself…

She was spared any further thinking on the matter when she came abruptly on Astrid’s cabin. She blinked, surprised at herself for letting the house sneak up on her. She had walked to this place many countless times growing up. How strange it felt to her to stand outside of it, now. It looked smaller, meaner in the cold, dismal air. Slowly, Anna proceeded to the front door, and pushed it open by a crack.

“Hello?” she whispered into the dark interior. No response. She took a deep breath, pushed the door open more fully, and slipped inside, the door shutting behind her with a firm _thud._


	26. The Reindeer and the Wolf

Anna’s eyes adjusted to the darkness of Astrid’s cabin. “Kristoff?” she whispered. She could just barely make out the shape of the room, and everything within, and her stomach gave a weird turn.

The room seemed exactly as it had been the last time she saw it. That was, if she remembered correctly, almost two years ago. There was the fireplace, the chairs, the short cabinet – and no Kristoff.

Not wanting to stumble around blindly, Anna went to the cabinet and threw open the doors, rummaging within for what she hoped were candles. Astrid had always kept a few candles in her home, although the need for them was very rarely pressing. Anna felt around in the cabinet with her hands, blindly groping for something that felt like a tallow candle – she felt over a quill, some stacks of parchment, wood, and then – aha! A waxy stick. It was a candle, sure enough. She quickly found an accompanying candle stick, and placed one into the other.

She stared at the unlit candle, and realized quite suddenly that the necessity of _lighting_ a fire rendered the act of finding a candle a rather pointless accomplishment. Helplessly, she looked at the candle. It was so dark the shape of the candle seemed fluid, almost wild, and unpredictable. Fire. She needed fire.

It was as she was looking at the candle and thinking about the way it looked in the darkness that an idea struck her. _Shapes exist in nature._

She gave the candle an odd look. “Bombos,” she whispered.

A tiny flame guttered into life at the candle’s tip, catching the end of the wick and beginning a quick and merry burn. It worked! Her breath caught for disbelief. She had actually conjured a flame. Thrilled by this development, she held out the candle and looked around, taking in the cabin by the new light.

To her surprise, the cabin was not merely similar to as it had been two years ago, it was exactly _identical._ Except for the open cupboard, it looked as though nothing had been touched in almost all that time. A thick layer of dust had settled over everything, and cobwebs gathered in the corners. It was as though the house had been abandoned in a hurry.

Anna walked over to the fireplace, noting the stack of wood by its side. She held up her candle to see the mantle. She noticed the two pegs on the wall where Autumn used to hang, a slight pang flicking her heart as she did. Wherever Astrid had gone, she had not, evidently, come back.

Kristoff still hadn’t shown up, so Anna plopped herself down on one of the chairs by the hearth. She set down the candle on the low table, pulled her knees up to her chest, and waited.

While she sat, she looked around the cabin idly, noting, again by the positioning of the furniture, how untouched it seemed to be. She made a short exercise of counting the number of same features. The cabinet, yes. The back door. The chairs, the low table. The hearth. The pile of wood. The little tea kettle that Astrid used for boiling water. The windows…

A thought roused Anna with sudden vigor. The tea kettle. Anna stared at it. What was off about it? Was it in a slightly different location…? No, she shouldn’t be absurd. How would she know, anyway? How could she expect to remember the _exact_ location of all the things in Astrid’s house?

But it wasn’t that. The flickering candle cast a weird shadow around it, like the light was somehow…

Anna all but threw herself to the ground next to the tea kettle, lifting it up and casting it aside. A piece of parchment had been wedged under the tea kettle, its yellowed edge catching the candlelight in a different way than the cast iron of the pot. It looked clearly old, worn, a folded wedge that someone had left and forgot. Anna turned it around and saw that it was a letter – it had been sealed with wax, but the seal was broken, and on the outside of the letter read:

_From the Lord Mayor Edward Burrows_

Anna felt bile rise in her throat. _Lord Edward._ A sudden wave of hate enveloped her, and she was seized by the desire to torch the letter on the spot. But the seal was broken. Astrid – probably Astrid – had read it, whatever… _it_ was. Anna wasn’t sure why, but that knowledge made the prospect of destroying the letter a lot less appealing. In fact, maybe this letter contained some hint as to what happened to Astrid.

Her thumb played with the edge of the fold. Slowly, carefully, Anna unfolded the letter, and she read:

“My dearest Astrid,

“Lately I have been tortured by sleepless nights. My thoughts keep going to that girl who took off my son’s finger. In truth, I don’t know whether I should have rewarded her or banished her. I think there was no difference.

“I regret so much, my dearest. I regret everything that transpired between us. Sometimes I even regret the love. And I do surely still hate myself for never rising over it. I should have taken you for a wife from the first time we laid together; that’s what my father would have done. I don’t know what I was holding out for. I’ve turned down countless suitors. Every time I look at that wretched boy I am reminded of all my failures. Especially with him. I don’t know where I went wrong. How does one raise a child? Can one even do it alone? Would he have done better if he knew his mother? I don’t know. These are the thoughts that torture me. I should have given that girl a knighting.

“My son corresponds with Crystalwater weekly now. He speaks always of how the queen’s authority will not last forever. He is vain and foolish and he talks like a traitor, and it sickens me to think that he will drag Burrowstown behind him into oblivion when he succeeds me. I know not exactly what it is he is plotting, but I do know how I can foil him. I have done so much damage that I pray whichever nameless gods haven’t forgotten me will help to undo it; will help me to help right the wrongs.

“Astrid. Your second pregnancy, after you returned;we both knew it was a mistake. And it destroyed you, I know. You were sick with grief for a month after, and yet – my dearest, I know you must hate me. I do too. I hate me more than you can ever know. I say this only to impress upon you how much I regret what I’m about to tell you now. I lied to you: you did not mis-carry. He was a beautiful boy;my second son. But I did not want him. So I sent him away with that insipid friar. Who could have known the old fool would return and put the boy up in the stables?

“Brendan tells me he’s grown up to be a disgusting coward. He scorns him and his friends, that girl and that child of Armin’s, but it was all I could do not to tell my son that at least his brother _has_ friends. I can’t fix Brendan. It’s too late for him. But my second son never knew me as his father, so I know that whatever Brendan sees wrong in him is, in fact, good.

“One bastard is much like another. Order of birth matters not. Why should it? This is why I write you, Astrid. Whatever ill fate should befall me, you must know the truth, and you must execute my will. You are a great warrior. You must do this. Brendan is not to be my heir.

“Thus, bear witness: I, Edward Burrows, First of My Name, Lord Mayor of Burrowstown, do hereby legitimize my second natural son, and name him my heir to all titles and holdings and the name of Burrows.

“You know the boy. He is your nephew-in-law since your brother and his partner adopted him. He has your hair, and my eyes. He was raised in a stable and his best friend is a reindeer, but he cannot be worse than Brendan, nor me. I hope you and Kristoff will forgive me.

“ _x._ _Lord Edward Burrows, Lord Mayor of Burrowstown._ ”

Anna’s heart pounded ferociously. She scanned the letter again in stark disbelief. So, Kristoff… Kristoff was Astrid’s son. He was Brendan’s _brother._ All this time… Anna looked at the letter again. Lord Edward had named Kristoff his heir in the letter, and Anna was reasonably sure Astrid had opened it and knew. So why did Brendan succeed his father and become the Lord Mayor? Why was Kristoff driven out of town? And where was Astrid…?

Anna stood up with such haste that she upset the low table, knocking the candle free. Still burning, it rolled off the table and smacked against the ground, where the flame caught on the wood-paneled floor with incredible speed. In mere moments, the fire climbed into a towering blaze.

Panicking, Anna leapt away from the growing flames. She seized the front door by the handle and wrenched it open. She flew out into the cold air beyond, leaving the inferno well behind her, her feet pounding the snow mightily.

When she had put considerable distance between her and the burning house, and all that was visible of the fire was the heavy coil of smoke rising into the night air, Anna stopped to catch her breath beside a tall house. The letter was still clutched in her hand – that was a tremendous relief. Hopefully, the fire would distract any guards in town that night. As for Kristoff, well, he would know they couldn’t rendezvous at a burnt-down cabin – but where _had_ he been? …Was he all right?

Anna looked at the letter one last time, and tucked it into her tunic lining for safe-keeping. She wiped her face with a hand and sighed heavily. _All right,_ she thought; _now what?_ Kristoff was out of the picture, for now; wherever he was, she was unlikely to meet up with him before late. Checking the stables was too risky. But what other options did she have?

She looked in the direction of the fortress – it wasn’t hard to find, it being the tallest, most brightly-lit thing in the town.

_He’s probably in there, too._

A sinking feeling lowered her heart into her stomach. Where else could she go?

She made her way to the fortress quietly, weaving between buildings with head ducked low, constantly on the lookout for guards. Fortunately, she never ran into any guards. The streets were perfectly deserted, and before long, she found herself at the edge of the fortress, staring up the gray timber walls of the outside.

She looked left and right. To the right was the main entrance, and, she figured, probably not the place to enter by. She started walking to the left, eyes trained on the walls, ready to duck out of sight if any guards presented themselves on the battlements above. The walls were about twenty feet tall, and about seven to fifteen feet up, there were windows, sometimes lit, sometimes not. What she was looking for was any indication of a deserted part of the fort, a place that she could try to sneak in through. She flexed her fingers in anticipation. If she could perform that wall-melting trick again…

Then she spied something that stood out. On the rear-side of the fortress, about eleven feet up, there was a window barred with iron bars. Anna immediately thought back to the Arenborg dungeons – the window in her cell reminded her very closely of this window, except from the outside. She stood directly below the window and, on tip-toes, strained to hear any sounds from within. But she wasn’t able to hear anything over the rushing sounds of wind.

She settled back on the flats of her feet, still looking at the barred window in consternation. Then, she got an idea. She went to her belt and wrenched her magic boomerang free and, taking a few steps back to acquire a better angle, loosed it with a flick of the wrist.

The boomerang shuffled through the air to clatter against the iron-bars straight on. It zipped back to her hand without missing a beat, and Anna ran up to the window again.

This time, she heard definite voices, and the sounds of arguing. She strained to hear better and, just barely, managed to catch a few words:

“…lift me up on your shoulders, Ragnar.”

“What? Bloody hell, I’m not letting you stand on my shoulders.”

“Don’t be thick, someone threw something at our window, I want to see!”

After some more sounds of struggle, finally a face appeared in the window, gaunt and bearded. It looked almost ghoulish in the moonlight, and stared down with beady eyes.

He made a sound like draining water. “Hey! You, down there!” he hissed. “What’s the big idea?”

“What’s your name?” Anna whispered back.

“What?”

“I said, ‘ _what’s your name?_ ’”

The face narrowed its beady eyes. “Is this some joke? Have you come to taunt us, his _mightiness_ ’s petty prisoners?” His voice was acrid venom, and he practically spat as he said “mightiness.”

“What’s your name?” repeated Anna.

The face blinked. “My name’s Thagnar Hugoss,” he said flatly, almost dejectedly. “Son of Lord Hugoss, Lord of Hugoss Hill.”

Anna squinted her eyes. Yes, come to think of it, the man did seem to resemble the brown-haired boy she had seen in the castle almost a year ago. Other than the beard, and the noticeably gaunter face, he fit the profile.

“Is there anyone else in there with you?” Anna whispered up.

Suddenly the face disappeared from the window, and then reappeared, swaying side to side. “Damnit, Ragnar, hold still!”

Someone complained loudly from within, and Thagnar looked distracted by it.

“Is that your brother? Ragnar Hugoss?” asked Anna, more loudly.

That got Thagnar’s attention. “How do you – er, yes. My brothers Ragnar and Aagnar Hugoss are in here, as well. As well as the old Lord Reginald Morning – or, er, former Lord Morning, I suppose. And…” he appeared to hesitate, “two others.” He gave Anna a sharp look. “Why do you ask?” Suddenly, he reached up his hands and gripped the bars of the window tightly. “Are you here to break us out?”

“Stand back,” advised Anna, and, after a moment of stunned disbelief, Thagnar’s face vanished from the window.

Anna looked at the wall, looked at the way the different whorls and deformities on the timber wood ran together to form shapes and lines. She concentrated. “Bombos,” she whispered.

Unlike the stone wall, which had melted, this wall did not go down so gracefully. A sharp crack filtered through the air, followed by another, and then the wall all but exploded into fragments, woodchips and splinters crashing down over each other in a mad rush to hit the ground first. When the dust had settled, a wide hole had been made in the wall, six feet by six, one that looked like a giant had punched straight through the wall as though it were nothing more than a thin plank.

Inside, four men, dressed in rags and all severely bearded, were watching with jaws agape. Anna entered the cell, and all four backed away. It stank greatly in the cell, which was nothing more than a wide, tall room, accessed from a hallway by a wooden cell door with a tiny door light. The door had a little flap in the bottom of it but, other than that, looked solidly built.

As for the four men, they were all in terrible shape. They were each half a ghoul, malnourished and evidently weakened by their long internment in the cell. They stood knobbed and crooked, but their eyes – far from being dead, black spots – burned with fierce intensity.

Anna recognized Thagnar at once, and the two men at his either side as Ragnar and Aagnar, easily told by their blonde hair and bright eyes. And the fourth man was tall and broad-shouldered, somehow maintaining an air of immensity despite his no doubt meager living conditions. His black, wiry hair was an unruly mess, but there was no doubting it: he was Reginald Morning, brother of the Giant.

But in the back, in the corner of the cell, Anna saw an enormous, huddled shape. A man.

“By the gods,” breathed Thagnar, and Ragnar and Aagnar stared. “How did you do that? Who _are_ you?”

Anna ignored them. She was fixated on the huddled man in the back. She swiftly strode past Thagnar and his brothers, and her heart plummeted when she recognized him.

It was Oaken. Big, reliable old Oaken, draped in filthy rags, his once well-kept mustache now a scraggly beard. And cradled in his arms was a very thin, very sick-looking Anders. His eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell weakly.

“Oaken,” said Anna.

Oaken craned his head back very slowly, looking at Anna with dead, dry eyes. “Anna?” he said hoarsely, his brow rising by the slightest fraction.

Anna was staring at Anders now. She had no idea a person – a living person – could resemble so much a skeleton.

“He’s sick,” murmured a voice from behind her shoulder. It was Ragnar. Anna turned to look at him briefly. “Some kind of fever, or something. Don’t know how he got it, none of us got infected. It’s been driving him…” His voice trailed off, and he pointed the tip of his finger at his head, and made a circular motion with it. “We reckon it’s only a matter of days, if not hours, now…”

Anna looked at Anders for only a few more seconds before she could take it no longer. She whirled away and forced herself to look at the other prisoners. “You are all of the hostages of Lord Brendan, then?”

“Aye,” said Thagnar, speaking up again. “Our retinue – what remained of them, anyway – were disarmed and returned to our father. Same goes for Lord Morning, though in his case it was his brother they returned to.”

Reginald Morning spat suddenly. “Don’t even mention my brother. He disgraces the family name.”

“Your brother?” asked Anna, curiously. She tried to remember him: he had called himself Ser Harris, and she had met him on the road, once. “What has he done?”

“Sat on his arse, that’s what,” said Reginald. “If I were him and I’d heard that my brother and liege lord was taken hostage, I’d rally my banners and stomp the worthless lay-about that did it.”

Anna gave him a queer look. “You’d be killed if Ser Harris did that. Lord Brendan would certainly execute you.”

“Most likely,” agreed Reginald. “Better that than do nothing, I say.”

Anna considered him for a moment. When she had met Ser Harris, she never once pegged him for anything but an honorable man, even considering the way he had spoken about her – without knowing it was her he was speaking about, of course. In fact, above all else, he seemed concerned about one thing: his family. “He probably doesn’t want you to die,” said Anna softly, somewhat calmer than she felt.

“Well…” Reginald worked his mouth and looked confused for a second. Then, he furrowed his brow and stared at Anna as if he was noticing her for the first time. “Hang on… Have we met before…?”

Anna nodded, and reached up to pull back the hood of her cloak. “I met you as Ser Anna, Knight of Crystalwater, once upon a time.”

“Ser Anna!” gasped Reginald, and even the Hugoss brothers looked shocked. Then Reginald barked with laughter. “Ha-ha! The Green Devil herself! Lads, that son of a wolf-bitch doesn’t stand a chance.”

“We thought you had died!” said Thagnar. “That was the word that went around.”

“We remember when it happened, too,” said Ragnar, darkly. “About nine months ago, a guard came down and said that the queen’s kidnapper – that was you – died in Lord Hans’s custody.”

“And yet, even having found and killed her kidnapper, there was still no word on the where-abouts of the queen,” said Thagnar. “We thought the whole thing was rotten.”

“Well, I’m not dead,” said Anna, she felt a little pointlessly, “and I’ve come to break you out of here. I plan to join up with the Valkyrie, march on Crystalwater, depose Lord Hans, and restore the monarchy. And if you’ll follow me, I’d be glad to have you.”

“Hell yes,” said Thagnar at once. “Lord Hans is a lowborn bastard braggart – erm, no offense, about the being lowborn and all.”

“It’ll be good to stretch my legs again,” said Ragnar, curling his fists eagerly.

“I’m in,” said Aagnar tersely, with a quick nod and a flash of his dark gaze.

They all looked at Reginald. He stroked his beard thoughtfully.

“Ah,” he said, “what the hell.”

“All right,” said Anna. “Let’s get out of here.”

“We’ll need to retrieve our weapons,” said Thagnar. “They should be just down the hall, with all the confiscated gear.”

“A bite of some real food wouldn’t go unwelcome, either,” quipped Ragnar. “We’ve been eating nothing but gruel for months.”

Just then, a sudden noise from behind Anna disrupted the celebration. She whirled around and saw Anders, lifting his arms and moving his head. Oaken was staring at him fixedly, and Anna saw Anders was moving his lips. She moved close.

“Oaken, Oaken,” said Anders weakly.

“Yes, I’m here,” replied Oaken in a quiet voice.

“Remember the carrots have to boil,” said Anders. “About thirty minutes. You know Kristoff likes them soft like that.”

“I know.”

Anders opened his eyes and tilted his head, noticing Anna. He smiled vaguely. “Hi, Anna.”

“Hi, Anders,” Anna heard herself say.

“How do you like the map?”

“The what?”

“The map. Your birthday present.”

“Oh,” said Anna. Unwittingly, she felt her eyes grow wet. She didn’t know why. “It was… it’s great. Thank you.”

“Oh, yes, a fine map,” whispered Anders in a wistful tone. “Should be perfectly useful for all kinds of exploring and adventures. Do say ‘hello’ to the queen from me if you should get to see her.”

“I will.”

“Anna?”

“Yes?”

Anders’s smile vanished. His cheeks sagged seriously. “You should know Astrid is very proud of you. That boy may be her son, but it is you she truly loves. You could cut him into ribbons and that wouldn’t change a thing.”

Anna closed her eyes tight and wiped the tears from her face on her sleeve. By the time she opened them again, Anders was fast asleep.

Oaken sniffed audibly and held Anders closer to him. Anna backed away, and then she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“We should move, now,” said Reginald. “Can you break down this door?”

Anna wrenched her view away. “Yes,” she said, “I can.”

She walked over to the cell door and held out a hand. She found it much easier to visualize the symbol, this time. In a mere moment, the door cracked and splintered, exploding into a shower of wood chunks and dust.

“Remind me not to pick a fight with you,” said Ragnar dryly, and the five of them proceeded into the hall beyond.

It was dim, but the path dead-ended on the left, and to on the right the hall led to another room, and a heavy, wooden double-door.

“To the right?” asked Anna.

“Yeah.”

They went right, spilling into another room that was lit by the moonlight. It looked like a guard-room: a desk was surrounded by chairs, and in the corner was a peg upon which some key-rings were hung. A heavy, disused trunk with faded buckles sat in another corner, looking neglected and discarded.

“There,” said Thagnar, pointing at the trunk. Anna’s companions filtered past her and to the trunk, which they opened with a flourish. Inside was a disorganized mess of doublets, leather armor, and swords.

“Of _course_ they just threw it into a pile,” groused Ragnar, and the four of them started taking the items out in a hurry. Ragnar picked up a faded, navy blue doublet and gave it a _whap_ to air it out.

“We should make haste,” said Reginald, suddenly speaking in a low voice. “We get our gear, and leave out the hole in our cell.”

“That’s the plan,” said Thagnar. “I see no reason to hang around the jail after a jailbreak.”

“Especially not when the jailers are cutting someone’s head,” said Ragnar. “Probably as we speak.”

Anna gave Ragnar an interested look. “They’re beheading someone?” she asked. “Who? How do you know?”

“Oh, the last jailer on shift came down a little after sun-fall, drunk as you please and slobbering about Lord Brendan giving up one of his men to the chopping block.” Thagnar gave a casual shrug. “I wish I could say it was the first time that happened, too.”

An uneasy feeling churned in Anna’s stomach. “Who? Did he give a name?”

“He said he was a spy, one of the Valkyrie’s men,” said Thagnar, picking up a navy doublet and inspecting it for moth-holes. “Kristoffer, or something like that.”

  1. Anna didn’t doubt it for a second. Her heart jumped into her throat, and she swore it felt like she was choking. “When are they beheading him?” she asked, doing her best to sound calm.



“Probably at sun-up,” said Thagnar. “That’s when they always do it.”

Anna’s head snapped to look at the window. It was the cool, misty blue of the approaching morning. Sun-up was nigh.

“We have to stop the execution,” said Anna abruptly.

Thagnar raised his eyebrow, an expression shared by his brothers. “I, er, appreciate the enthusiasm, but we’re just five. We can’t take on all of Lord Brendan’s men, to say nothing of… The Hooded One.”

They all gave a quick shudder. Anna looked between them, and noted that Aagnar had seemed to go pale at the mention.

“Who is ‘The Hooded One?’” she asked.

“The worst of Lord Brendan’s servants,” said Reginald, buckling a leather cuirass around his torso. “No one knows who he is or where he came from, only that he is unmatched in combat, and always goes for the kill.”

Anna was unmoved. “I have fought and beat several who were ‘unmatched in combat’,” she said bitterly. “We _must_ stop this execution.”

“But how?” protested Thagnar, gawking at Anna in open disbelief. “We are, as I said, naught but four men and a woman –”

“No,” interrupted Anna, clenching a fist. “We are four men and _me._ The person they are executing at dawn is my friend, and I won’t leave this place without him. The four of you are free to flee if you wish, but as I recall you, you were rotting in a jail cell until I showed up. We will stop the execution and end Brendan’s reign of terror _right now,_ men in hoods be damned.”

The four looked at each other, unspeaking. Reginald gave a huge shrug. “Lead the way, Ser Anna.”

Ragnar and Aagnar gave tentative nods, and Thagnar looked down at the sword he was holding. “Fine,” he sighed at last, buckling the sword to his side. “A Hugoss doesn’t forsake his debts.”

“All right, then,” said Ragnar. “We’re decided. Again. Now where do we go?”

“Out through the exit Anna made for us, I expect,” said Thagnar. “The dawn is upon us. If we move now, we should meet the main body of Lord Brendan’s men in the square – including the dastard himself.”

Once they had retrieved their gear, they followed Anna back down the hallway and out the cell. Anna stopped at the threshold, turning back to look at Oaken. The other four filed past her as she looked. Oaken was still holding Anders in that same, calm way he had been.

Anna wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t sure what she could say.

“Goodbye, Anders,” she whispered, and exited out into the snow.

The sky was brightening as the five of them dashed through the snow, making their way along the edge of the fort and into the city proper. Providence still smiled upon them, for no guards were patrolling the battlements, and still none were in the streets.

“Which way to the town square?” asked Thagnar as they rounded a street, putting houses between them and the fort.

“It’s near the fort,” said Anna. “Directly in front of it, most likely.”

Though no soldiers were out, there were other people beginning to leave their houses and, heavily bundled, were walking in the direction of the town square. Anna noted them with a frown – and a shared glance with Reginald told her they were thinking the same thing.

“These people might be putting themselves into danger,” he said in a low voice.

“That’s true,” said Ragnar, “but so are we. They’ll know to keep back when trouble breaks out. No doubt, living under Brendan has inured them to greater horrors.”

They took a wide path down winding streets, giving the town square a considerable berth, until the throng of people coming out to see the execution was equally considerable. They mixed in with the crowd and followed the mass as it filtered into the town square. It was ringed with guards in cloaks and chainmail, all of them holding long pikes, although none of them seemed to notice Anna and the four escapees.

They pushed their way to the front of the crowd, which had circled around a simple, wooden chopping block. Two guards were standing at attention next to the block, but there was no sign of Lord Brendan – nor any sign that the block had already been used.

The sky was a definite shade of blue, now, although the tip of the sun had yet to show itself. Anna felt a hand on her shoulder and a rough voice in her ear:

“What’s the plan?” It was Reginald.

“Follow my lead,” replied Anna, with more confidence than she felt in that moment.

Soon enough, the front doors to the fort burst open, and down the hill came an impressive procession of men. Thirty men-at-arms, at least, preceded the appearance of Lord Brendan, who looked so different that Anna had to look twice. He was dressed in an exquisite, gigantic fur robe that dragged on the ground behind him, and over his shoulder peeked the handle of a great sword, the hilt of which was studded gaudily with emeralds, rubies, and diamonds. On his brow he wore a silver band with a single diamond in the crest. Anna felt her hands clench as she stared, pure revulsion coursing through her.

Directly behind him came the prisoner – Kristoff, his hands bound and tied together. He had a downcast, defeated look to him, and he hung his head as he proceeded slowly behind Brendan. At one point, his pace faltered, and the guards at his either side prodded him with the butts of their spears.

But behind all of them came someone who made Anna’s skin crawl. A tall, hooded figure appeared in the entrance to the keep, and Anna felt an odd pang of recognition. Where had she seen this figure before? She remembered almost instantly: when she had met with Anders and Oaken, and Brendan’s men had raided them, they were led by this same, strange figure. Beneath the hood there was only shadow, and at the figure’s side was a sword with a curved, twisted blade.

The men-at-arms filed around the other half of the town square, pushing back the crowd as they did. They formed a semi-circle around the chopping block, and parted ways to allow Lord Brendan and his prisoner to proceed. Anna noticed they gave the hooded figure an even wider berth, and all seemed to want to avoid its gaze.

Kristoff hobbled up to the chopping block, prodded forward by the guards at his side, and stared at it with a silent, dolorous look.

Lord Brendan smirked at him and turned around to address the crowd. He lifted his hands, which, Anna could see, were covered in little, jeweled rings – that was, except for the fingers that he had lost those two years ago.

“People of Burrowstown!” he sang out in a high, sardonic tone. “Your Lord and Ruler greets you! For today’s execution, we have a very special spectacle for you!”

Murmurs went around the crowd. Anna figured a lot of them recognized Kristoff, no doubt understanding exactly what the Lord Mayor meant by “very special.”

“That’s right!” shouted Brendan. “We have none other than the _traitor_ Kristoff! The famous consort of the evil, wicked bitch, who kidnapped our queen and plunged the realm into chaos! Yes, you know of whom I speak!” His tone had risen considerably, and he all but screeched: _“Ser Anna!”_

The crowd murmured some more, but generally was quiet, watching. Lord Brendan lowered his arms. “I knew, of course! I knew from the beginning she was no good. I knew it and I tried to stop her before anyone. But thanks to her sinister tricks and demon magic, she _wounded_ me! It would have been fatal, were it not for a timely intervention. Now, she is dead, but still the realm _festers_ with those who had aided her in all her mischief. Today, we cut off one of those boils. Today, we move one step closer to peace and security in the kingdom – and it is all thanks to _I_ , the great Lord Brendan, Lord Paramount of the Dale!”

There was a very scattered applause, but that did not seem to phase him at all. He made a sharp gesture at Kristoff and the guards. “Put him on the block. Executioner!”

The hooded figure stepped forward, drawing forth its twisty, curved sword. The two guards at Kristoff’s sides jerked him forward, pushing him down to his knees and forcing him to lie down on the block.

“Don’t struggle,” sneered Brendan. “You want it to be a nice, quick death, don’t you?”

The guards backed off as the hooded figure approached. Lord Brendan turned away to address the crowd, lifting his arms again. “Watch and see what happens to all those who defy my awesome might!”

Anna watched as the hooded figure stepped closer. Her heart was pounding in anticipation. The twisted blade lifted into the air…

It was now or never.

Quick as a doe, Anna sprinted forward, making it from the crowd to the chopping block in three bounding strides. Wintersbane was out of its sheathe and in her hands, and just as the twisted blade was beginning its journey down…

  1. The twisted blade smacked against the flat of Wintersbane and halted convincingly. Anna was now standing, with sword held upright, between the hooded figure and Kristoff.



Lord Brendan whirled around, his face contorted with anger and confusion. “What – _what?_ ”

The hooded figure gave another swing, and Anna countered the attack and drove it back, forcing the hooded figure to back away. The way the steel sang and their swords met gave Anna the oddest feeling of déjà vu…

Anna leveled her sword and looked between Lord Brendan and the hooded figure. The men-at-arms circling the square leveled their spears, but seemed hesitant to move. They all looked at Brendan expectantly.

“Who are you?” he snarled, jabbing a finger in Anna’s direction. “Interfering with the Regent’s justice is a capital offense. I could have _your_ head for this!”

“If you can take it,” shouted Anna, “you’re welcome to it.” She shook out her braids and stared fiercely at Brendan. “I seem to recall you trying to, once. But that didn’t work out so well for you, did it?” She held up her off-hand and lowered the outer two fingers.

A much louder murmur ran through the crowd as Kristoff lifted himself off the chopping block, scrambling away with his hands still tied. Lord Brendan gaped at her, his eyes growing wider and wider. In an instant, his face devolved into apoplectic fury. _“YOU!”_ he screamed, his entire body shaking with rage. He held out his hands, and for a moment looked about ready to explode –

And then, quite suddenly, he relaxed. An enormous smile stretched across his face. “Well, well, well. It looks like the _bitch_ isn’t dead, after all. But she’s about to be.” He nodded his head at the crowd. “My good people, see for yourself the enemy, _your_ enemy. The queen’s kidnapper!” He held out a hand dramatically. “Where did you hide the queen, you foul demon?”

“I did not kidnap the queen,” said Anna loudly, her eyes darting between Brendan and the hooded figure, who seemed to be watching impassively. “But I know where she is, and I know who her captor is. He’s the same who currently sits in Crystalwater – the man who calls himself Lord Regent. I name him a traitor, and all who service him servants to a false cause.”

“Ha!” laughed Brendan, sweeping his arms out as he, again, regarded the crowd. “Fickle words. Why should we believe a word you say, demon?”

“And why should we believe a word _you_ say?” retorted Anna. “Why should we believe the word of a tyrant, a boy scarcely a man who ascended his father’s seat not shortly after his untimely death? Was Lord Edward not a young and healthy man?”

For a moment, Brendan seemed to lose his cool. He scowled fiercely at Anna. “And just what are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” said Anna, raising her voice, “that right now, these people have to decide between the word of a knight, her queen’s own Lady Protector – and a kin-slayer who stole his father’s throne!”

A muttered gasp ran through the crowd. Brendan’s face twitched, and Anna was reminded of the sneering look Brendan often gave as a boy. “Lies and slander!” he spat. “My father died of illness – ”

“He died of a plague, all right,” shouted Anna, running over Brendan’s words. “And that plague was his bastard son, Brendan!”

Brendan had no words. He clenched his teeth and stared at Anna, a vein bulging in his forehead.

Anna took the initiative. She spoke clearly and loudly, sweeping around and playing the crowd in the same way Brendan did.

“If there was one thing the late Lord Edward regretted, it was that his bastard son Brendan should succeed him when he died!” shouted Anna. “He knew it would be turmoil and misery for the town he had governed in the name of the House of Burrows, once a name respected and renowned for its integrity. And he also knew it would forever be a smirch on his name. And that’s why, before he died, he resolved that his second son should take the throne.” At this, Anna reached into her cloak, and pulled out the letter that she had stowed away. She raised it up high. “This letter names his true heir, and I do, by all the laws of Arendelle, here bear it witness: not the false-son, the father-slayer Brendan av Burrows, but his second son, the orphan _Kristoff Berk!”_

The reaction of the crowd was palpable. She could tell she had them now. Even the men-at-arms looked lost and confused, and she saw them muttering to each other in low voices through the sides of their helms.

Brendan’s screech split the air with a terrible noise. _“LIES!”_ he screamed. “That letter is a forgery! A fabrication! That awful woman – I _had_ to – no choice – _it is my BIRTH RIGHT!”_

Kristoff, meanwhile, gazed stupidly at the letter in Anna’s hand. Anna looked at him, and he looked at her, and their eyes locked. She had seen that look a million times before. It was the look he gave before he shrugged. It was the look that said, “If you say so.”

And in that moment, Anna knew what the paper in her hand meant. Kristoff and Brendan were both bastard-born of the same parents, but different by so much that it seemed almost tedious to say. Whose blood was richer? Whose blood was more royal? Who deserved to be Lord Mayor? Perhaps neither of them did, or perhaps it did not matter, but Anna knew one thing for sure. She was so much more than what she was made of, just as Kristoff was, and just as Brendan was not. She was Ser Anna, the Knight of Crystalwater. She was the Green Devil. She was the Wild Girl. She was the Forest Child. And…

“And you may ask yourselves, who am I to speak to you now?” shouted Anna, and she leapt up onto the chopping block with one swift jump. “Who am I to speak this way to a man proclaimed as a lord of the realm?” She paused and looked around. The entire square was watching her.

“Many years ago, the Royal Family birthed a second child, one who lived but five short years before she met her end. No one spoke of her, for she was the end of an ancient curse on the Royal Family, one that forever birthed only children. Her death was an omen, and many preferred to forget rather than to remember.

“That girl was the Princess of Arendelle, and sister to Queen Elsa Arendelle – long may she live. But she did not die. No, she did not die. She was cursed, and to save her life, the late king and queen gave her to the trolls of the forest. Among them, she lived and grew up, never knowing her heritage.”

Anna stopped for a brief moment, looking up at the sky. The edges of the sun were appearing over the horizon. “Her name was Anna Arendelle, and she stands before you now.” She held up her sword, pointing it directly at the sky. It shined with an undeniable magic, the brilliant, blue metal glowing resplendently. “Hear me, people of Burrowstown! I am Princess Anna of Arendelle, and I wield the long-lost blade of Wintersbane! By my sword and by my honor, I will end this endless winter, and see my sister restored to the throne!”

Sheer quiet. The crowd stared in awed silence, and even Lord Brendan was speechless.

His chuckle was the first noise to hit the square.

“Hahaha,” he laughed. “Hahaha! Oh, _Princess_ Anna, how precious! Do you think a little speech will do a thing? Anna, one thing I learned from the good Lord Regent is that all that _really_ matters is power. And me? I have power. All these men,” he swept his arms, indicating the three-dozen men-at-arms, “answer to _me._ You are but one – a _girl._ You stand alone.”

“She doesn’t,” came a voice from behind her. Anna turned, and saw Reginald stepping out from the crowd, lifting an enormous sword. Strangely, thought it might have merely been a trick of the golden light of the encroaching morning, the lord seemed stronger, healthier. He dropped to his knees. “Princess Anna, I am your man.”

Lord Brendan went white as a sheet. “You… how did you…?”

The three Hugosses were quick to follow, running out into the square, all of them also dropping to their knees, swords point-first in the snowy ground. “I, Ragnar Hugoss, firstborn of Lord Hugoss, do pledge you my allegiance and my servitude, Princess Anna of Arendelle.”

“I, Thagnar Hugoss, second-born of Lord Hugoss, do the same.”

Aagnar nodded. “As do I, Aagnar Hugoss.”

As one, the four of them rose to their feet, and leveled their weapons. “We stand with you!” shouted Thagnar.

“No matter what the odds!” shouted Ragnar.

“We serve the Royal Family, as the Royal Family served us!” shouted Aagnar, with surprising volume.

“How did they escape?” shouted Brendan, waving his arms wildly. “ _How?_ ”

“By your leave, Princess Anna!” shouted Reginald. “We may not get out of this alive, but we can cut down the _Lord Mayor_ before it’s said and done!”

“You’re still outnumbered!” screamed Brendan. “Attack! _Attack!_ ”

The men-at-arms did not immediately respond, a ripple of confusion running through them. At least half leveled their spears and charged, and Anna jumped down to meet them.

The first two men-at-arms tasted her steel and went down quickly. She spied Lord Brendan, standing stock-still, his face an odd mixture of red and white pallor. But before she could close on him, a twisted sword blocked her advance.

It was the hooded figure, holding out the sword with one hand in an elementary defensive posture, one Anna knew she’d have trouble attacking into. She had no shield, but neither did the hooded figure. She fought this fight thousands of times before.

Without warning, the hooded figure changed stances and jumped forward, slashing in a quick and frightful attack. _Clang, clang,_ Anna blocked the slashes with no small amount of effort. It was a relentless attack, and every move was performed flawlessly. Anna found herself thinking back to her lessons, thinking about her positioning. Slowly, she gave ground, though she continued to repel the hooded figure’s attacks. _Clang, clang._

Back and forth they went as Anna defended and attempted to riposte, though the hooded figure was quick and did not fold easily. It was surprisingly difficult, and Anna felt beads of sweat form on her forehead. _How is he so fast?_ she thought. She was reminded, rather uncomfortably, of the practice fights with Astrid. Every move was perfect, and merged seamlessly into the next one – fights with Astrid were like fights with water, and Anna had lost every single one.

The attack came again, and Anna blocked it in the same way she had done for years.

She almost froze. The feeling of déjà vu from earlier was suddenly crystal clear. The hooded figure’s posture, speed, positioning, relentless attack… Anna _had_ fought this fight before. _This_ fight. Thousands of times.

There was only one person in the entire world who fought like that.

In that split second, the hooded figure caught Anna off balance. She stumbled backwards, clumsily regaining her footing just barely in time to parry the next attack.

“Astrid?” said Anna weakly.

The hooded figure appeared not to respond, continuing with its attack. Slash, slash, slash, _clang_. Anna backed up further. She felt the back of her boot hit the chopping block. There was surely no mistaking it, but _no_ – it had to be a trick, a coincidence, Astrid would never…

And then Anna looked a little closer, a little harder. Anna could truly see nothing beneath that hood. And the deeper she stared, the darker the hood seemed to be…

Suddenly, she was hearing voices, _loud_ and terrible, in her head.

_“You killed him. I know you did, you little brat.”_

_“Please, you don’t – OW!”_

_“Astrid, you know I can’t simply let you do this to him.”_

_“Stay out of this, Armin. He’s no lord. He’s a bastard. He’s my_ son. _I should have done this a long time ago.”_

_“Astrid, I’m warning you… you don’t know what he’s capable of.”_

_“What he’s capable of is kin-slaying. If you stick around, you might see a demonstration.”_

_“Astrid… the boy has_ friends _now…”_

_“YOU’LL BE SORRY…!”_

And then a laugh, queer and distant, cold and dark, echoed through Anna’s mind.

_“Oh, Astrid, is it? Pleased to finally meet you. I’ve heard_ so _much.”_

_“Let me g-go…”_

_“Sorry, my dear, not today. The boy tells me that you threatened to kill him. So why_ didn’t _you? Just curious. I mean, I have a guess why, but then why play up a big scene? Sounds to me like you’re awfully torn. You have to kill him, but he’s your son, so… really, what are you to do? Must be hard. Nobody to tell you what to do, no idea if you should serve the boy or kill him… well… I can fix that.”_

Anna took in a sharp intake of air. She jumped to the side, barely dodging the hooded figure’s next swing. She brought up her sword to meet the next several.

She felt like she should weep, but her eyes were empty. All she could do was stare at that black abyss, feel the black wind blow through her. Astrid. It seemed unreal. It seemed _unfair._

Swish, swish, _clang._ Anna never got to apologize to her.

She stared again into the darkness of the hood, but this time, the voice in her head was soft and gentle.

_“You should know Astrid is very proud of you. That boy may be her son, but it is you she truly loves.”_

The hooded figure swung again, and then it clicked. Astrid was dead. _This_ was not Astrid. She had been changed by Hans, who was still very much alive. There would be time for grieving later. In the meantime, Anna knew what Astrid would say to her if she could see her right now. “Hey, wild girl.”

  1. “Go do something stupid.”



Anna didn’t lose every single one of those fights. She had won one. And she remembered how that final lesson ended. _“You’d be unstoppable on the attack.”_

Anna jumped off the back of her heels, flying into the hooded figure, swinging her sword in a frenzied attack. It was swift, and her arm was strong. The hooded figure quickly lost ground, barely keeping up with Anna’s swings. She felt alive, her heart burning with anger and strength. _Clang, clang, fwip_ – the hooded figure was wide open. With a lunge, Anna drove Wintersbane’s point into the hooded figure’s stomach.

The hooded figure crumpled as Anna pulled her sword free. She snapped her head up, taking in a quick appraisal of the situation. Most of the men-at-arms had joined the fray, but some looked confused, and some were actually fighting each other. Yards away was Lord Brendan, his face white with shock as he stared at his fallen champion.

“Y-you k-killed her,” he gasped.

Anna looked around. Lord Reginald and the three Hugosses seemed to be holding her own. No men-at-arms had yet pegged her for a target. The sun was truly rising now, its mighty orb climbing slowly over the shoulders of the eastern trees, painting all below in a bath of orange, splendid light. The wind rose, and swept the square in a powerful gust that flapped Anna’s cloak all around her. Overhead, a black crow flew by.

Anna blinked. Her eyes followed the crow as it flew west, towards the dark hills that were only just touched by the beams of the rising sun.

A flag was waving.

It was growing taller, and taller, and from this distance Anna could not recognize any kind of symbol on the flag, but only when it crested the hill, and Anna could see the man on horseback hoisting it up, did she realize what it meant. Sure enough, mere moments later, and the hillside was lined from edge to edge in the silhouettes of soldiers on horseback. At their head was one, very tall, whose helmet was fashioned with wings.

“It’s the Valkyrie!” shouted someone in the crowd.

Brendan spun around, his face blanching as he beheld the curtain of soldiers on the horizon.

“Oh, no,” he croaked, stepping away from the hill as though it might reach out and touch him. “No…”

Suddenly, the hooded figure jerked to its feet, and lurched over to Brendan with wicked, unnatural speed. The hooded figure wrapped its arms around his shoulder, and, with one, trembling hand, lifted the twisted blade to his neck.

“No!” he shouted, gasping horribly. “STO-”

His voice became a gurgle, and he fell to the ground in a shower of blood, the hooded figure quickly following him. Both lay unmoving in red snow as, all around them, Brendan’s men wavered and broke. They threw themselves to their knees, prostrating themselves before Anna and even Kristoff, pleading and begging for amnesty.

And that was how the Valkyrie and Ser Martin had found them.


	27. The Right Decision

A column of horsemen rode into the town, most or all of them knights, dressed for weather and for combat. They proceeded slowly, stopping to take in the spectacle of what lay before them.

Anna stood in the center of the square, shoulders straight, hands clasped over the hilt of her sword. Beside her, recently unshackled, was Kristoff, looking ill at-ease. On her other side were the three Hugosses, mostly unscathed, and Reginald, with a bruised eye. Behind her, a phalanx of men-at-arms – until ten minutes ago, Lord Brendan’s men – knelt with heads bowed.

The woman at the head of the column of horse drove purposefully forward on the back of her handsome mare, and Anna immediately knew her as the Valkyrie.

“By the gods,” she murmured, looking around. She was as Anna remembered her: Tall, fair, and built like an ox. Her head was mostly covered by a winged helmet with a T-shaped visor, and in one hand she held a long glaive with a sharp tip. She surveyed the fallen bodies and then the array of kneeling men-at-arms. “What happened here?”

Another man rode up. Anna did not recognize Martin at first. His hair was the same mousy color, but his jaw and chin were now covered by a thin, growing beard. It was odd how mature that made him seem, and Anna remembered that he was _Ser_ Martin now. Unlike the Valkyrie, he was staring directly at Anna. He was taller, dressed in half-plate and on the back of a horse that Anna immediately recognized.

“I see you took good care of my horse,” said Anna, eyeing Epona.

For a moment, it looked like Martin didn’t know how to respond. He cleared his throat. His voice was a lot deeper, now, but it shook ever so slightly with just the hint of the squire she had known him as. “Ser Anna, I – yes. I would have left her, but when I went to get my own horse, she wouldn’t let me go without her. And I needed an extra horse for Maple, so I… I hope that did not inconvenience you.”

Anna felt herself smile. “No, of course not, Martin. You did well. Epona was smart to go with you.”

Suddenly, a horse skipped up beside the Valkyrie, and a broad man with a bucket-like helmet on his head boomed down at her. “That’s _Ser_ Martin to you! He’s the marshal of my lady’s court, you show some respect!”

At this, Martin burst into laughter. He turned to look at the helmeted man. “Ser Cedar, surely you know that Ser Anna is the one who knighted me?”

“Of course, Ser Martin,” said the helmeted man quickly. “But it is only proper, her rank being no higher than yours, to observe proper decorum –”

“Quiet _,_ Ser Cedar,” said the Valkyrie, lifting a hand. “There is no need for such standoffish speech at present.”

The helmeted man grumbled something inaudible, and the Valkyrie twisted in her seat to give him a stern look. He quickly lowered himself in his saddle, and seemed to grow smaller under the Valkyrie’s glare.

Martin had chosen that moment to turn away from Anna, noticing and nodding curtly to Kristoff before he looked around the rest of the square. He adopted a deep, puzzled frown. “What _did_ happen here?” At last, he recognized the crumpled figure of Lord Brendan, fallen in the snow, and his face grew white.

The Valkyrie noticed, too. “You killed him,” she said, flatly, and then her head snapped up and she blinked at the men-at-arms behind Anna. “How did you…?”

“I gave them a choice,” said Anna, speaking in a steady, high volume. “To choose between a usurper, or their rightful lord.” She gestured to Kristoff.

Everyone stared at Kristoff. He shrugged helplessly.

“You’re a lord, Kristoff?” asked Martin in a bemused tone. “Gosh, why didn’t you tell us?”

“I didn’t know,” said Kristoff with another shrug. “I – I had no idea that I was – who my parents were…”

Anna fished in her cloak pockets for the paper, but found, to her great distress, that it was missing. She whirled around, eyes scanning the snowy ground, and immediately found it laying half-folded on the chopping block. She snatched it up and raised it into the air. “This letter,” she announced, mainly to the Valkyrie and her men, “reveals Kristoff to be the late Lord Edward’s _second_ bastard son, after Brendan; and it also names him as his heir, the true heir of Burrowstown.”

The Valkyrie held out a hand, and Anna walked up and handed the letter over. She flipped it open and quickly began to scan.

“That’s what it says,” she confirmed, after a tense moment. “But can we be sure it’s not fake - ? Ah, the seal.” She turned the letter over and inspected the wax seal. “Not that I’m opposed, mind you, but, this past year, a lot of people have been laying claim to a lot of different things.” She gave Kristoff a shrewd look. “I suppose you’re a stable-boy or ditch-digger? Raised by no one? An orphan? And now, suddenly, you reckon yourself a lord?”

“I was adopted,” said Kristoff, a little defensively. “And I didn’t _ask_ to be a lord.”

“But you are, whether you like it or not,” said the Valkyrie. “I’m asking whether you’ll be a _good_ lord.”

“Kristoff is a good man,” interjected Martin. “Do not judge him on the standards of his upbringing – ”

“You would rather I judge him on the standards of his birth?” snapped the Valkyrie. “If a lordly upbringing in this town produces lords like Brendan, then it’s just as well that this ‘Kristoff’ here didn’t have that.” She sent Kristoff one last withering stare, snorted, then folded up the paper and passed it back to Anna. Only then did she seem to notice Reginald and the Hugosses.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Ragnar Hugoss, eldest son of Lord Magnar Hugoss, Lord of Hugoss Hill,” said Ragnar, bowing.

“Thagnar Hugoss, second son of Lord Hugoss,” said Thagnar, bowing also.

“Aagnar Hugoss,” said Aagnar, bowing last.

“Reginald Morning,” said Reginald. He dipped his chin slightly. “A pleasure to meet the lady who’s been making life difficult for the Lord Regent this past year.”

She blinked at all of them. An enormous smile stretched spread-eagle on her face. “By the gods. You’re all _alive._ Oh, this is – this is sensational! Ser Martin, do you know what this means?”

“It means the Up-And-Downs and Hugoss’s navy are ours,” said Martin, staring dumbfounded at the four of them. “That is, assuming they’ll join with us.”

“They will. They _must,_ ” said the Valkyrie. She beamed down at the three Hugosses, and Reginald, all of whom returned flat, polite expressions. She cleared her throat and, adopting a hearty, imperious tone, said: “My lords of Hugoss, my lord of Morning, in full knowledge of the true enemy of all of us – the self-proclaimed Lord Regent of Arendelle – and, knowing that I have fought and resisted his tyranny for nigh-on eighteen months now, I have but one thing to ask of you. Will you join me in my rebellion? Will you pledge your lives and swords to my cause?”

They looked at each other. “Um, begging your pardon, my lady,” said Thagnar with a careful frown. “It’s not that we’re _opposed_ to your cause or anything, but it’s just that we’ve already pledged our swords to another – for the time being.”

The Valkyrie looked puzzled. “You’ve pledged your swords to another? But… to whom?”

“The Princess of Arendelle,” said Thagnar, and the other three nodded their affirmation.

Martin shared the Valkyrie’s puzzled look. “But there is no Princess of Arendelle,” he said, slowly. “Queen Elsa’s coronation was almost two years ago, and nobody even knows if she’s still alive.”

“She’s still alive,” said Anna suddenly, lifting her chin.

“How do you know?” asked the Valkyrie, pointedly.

“Because,” said Anna, “she is my sister. I am the Princess of Arendelle.”

Martin and the Valkyrie stared at her with looks of utter shock. Martin’s jaw flapped open, and it seemed like he had forgotten how to speak as he sputtered pointlessly. “But… you… but…”

“I may have been raised in a barn, but Anna was raised in a forest,” said Kristoff. He spread out his hands. “Just throwing that out there.”

The Valkyrie simply stared at Anna, her eyes growing strangely colder as she did. “What’s your proof?” she asked in a low, cool voice.

Anna cast a quick glance around the square, at the hundreds of horsemen and dozens of men-at-arms, and the townsfolk who had were still looking-on. “I think it would be best if we discuss that privily, my lady.”

The Valkyrie nodded her head very slightly. “It’s clear we have much to discuss,” she agreed. “I suppose we’d better take a night and work it out, then.” She turned her horse around, and gestured to the fortress on the hill. “Is anyone else using that right now?”

 

The fortress’s great hall, though much smaller than any other “great halls” Anna had ever seen, was yet large enough for their purpose. It was a long room with log pillars, banded with iron, that held up a ceiling of exposed timber beams. Little slats in the eaves held open windows that spilled golden light all over the hall, illuminating the rich, burgundy carpet that ran the length of the room to the very gaudy and ugly throne.

It was a throne of precisely carved wood, fashioned in a rather peculiar shape that reminded Anna of nothing so much as thousands of writhing wolves. Atop all of it was the carving of a huge wolf-head, one that seemed darker and more savage than all the others in the throne, craned upright in a howling position.

Kristoff seemed apprehensive about it.

“Bloody hell, I hope I don’t have to sit in that ugly thing,” he said mutedly to Anna as they filed into the room. Although it was, technically, Kristoff’s fort, and Anna was, supposedly, royalty, the Valkyrie was the first to enter the hall, at her sides Ser Cedar and Ser Martin. They had dismounted outside the fort, and entered now on foot, their weapons holstered on their waists or slung out of the way over their backs.

A few other of the Valkyrie’s knights entered also, flanking Anna and Kristoff. Last to enter were the Hugosses and Reginald.

The Valkyrie strode out into the center of the hall and gave it a cursory glance before she removed her helmet and turned on one of her knights. “Ser Ulm, we’ll be staying here for the night. Have the men secure control of the fort, and then the town. Set up camp and then start trading with the townsfolk for food, materiel – anything else you think we need. And raid the jail as well – any other folk that Lord Brendan would have seen fit to lock-up can’t be half-bad. See that they are given the appropriate care.”

“Aye, m’lady,” replied the knight, saluting stiffly. He left the hall with all of the other knights, except for the Sers Martin and Cedar.

“This must be a new concept of hospitality,” rumbled Reginald. “After all, are you not guests of Lord Kristoff in this town?”

The Valkyrie narrowed her eyes at him. “I’d rather not wait on the late Lord Brendan’s ill-trained soldiers to suss out their duties in the wake of this unexpected succession. _After all,_ we have work to do.”

“Most of Lord Brendan’s men were mercenaries,” put in Thagnar. “It won’t take them long to suss out their duties once they remember where the coin is coming from.”

“Really?” The Valkyrie raised her eyebrows, and spoke in a severely sarcastic tone. “I saw a lot of kneelers out there. Odd behavior for mercenaries, I would think.”

“They aren’t mercenaries,” said Kristoff suddenly, pulling his gaze away from the ugly throne. “Not any more, I mean. About the turn of last year, Brendan ordered the company commanders swear him fealty. Those who refused, or declared the contract void… he had them killed.”

The Valkyrie raised an eyebrow at that. “Fancy that,” she said, somewhat darkly.

“By the gods,” whispered Ser Cedar with evident disgust. “And people still served him, after that?”

“A lot of us didn’t have a choice,” said Kristoff. “He could offer food, and shelter. He worked the mercenaries over, one at a time, and they all sort of… fell into line. I think the ones closest to him didn’t really know what they were doing. One of them got wise and tried to stand up, accusing Brendan of witchcraft – but he was killed by the Hooded One. After that, his company bended their knees unflinchingly.”

“It’s Lord Hans,” said Martin at once. He gave the Valkyrie an earnest look. “My lady, it’s as I told you. Hans wields strange magic, of exactly this kind.”

“The magic of charisma?” said the Valkyrie dryly. “Yes, Martin, we spoke of this before. I agree this business with the mercenaries is troubling, but –”

“My lady, you haven’t seen him,” insisted Martin. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

 “Martin tells it true,” said Anna, just as the Valkyrie had opened her mouth to respond. “Lord Hans is no ordinary man. He is a sorcerer, and a very powerful one at that.”

The Valkyrie shot Anna a sharp look. She raised a hand, as if she was about to make a point, but appeared to reconsider it half-way. She waved it off. “We can discuss Lord Hans later. For now, we must discuss the matter of your supposed royalty.”

Something in the way the Valkyrie looked at her unsettled Anna. “I take it you don’t believe me?” she asked coolly.

The Valkyrie chuckled, smirking just a tad. “If I believed everything someone told me on faith alone, I probably wouldn’t be here discussing with you.”

“Why not?” interposed Kristoff. “You seemed to believe that I was a lord.”

“That’s because _your_ claim had some measure of evidence, my dear boy,” said the Valkyrie. “Which, come to think of it, seems especially relevant given where we’re holding court right now.” She gestured to the ugly wolf’s-head throne. “It would be meet if you presided over us, my lord.”

Kristoff’s cheeks turned red, and he snatched a quick look over at Anna. She gave him a terse nod, one intended to say, “Go on, then.”

Kristoff seemed to get the message. He turned back to face the Valkyrie and drew himself up. “Okay, then, I will.” He strode over to the throne, mounted the dais, and set himself down in the chair with a distinctly uncomfortable cast to his posture.

When Kristoff had settled himself, Thagnar spoke up. “And what about us?” He gestured between him and his brothers. “Is the word of us three not good enough for you?”

“Us four,” added Reginald, pointing to himself.

“Well, how do you know Anna is royalty?” asked the Valkyrie. “How did she convince you?”

“Are you kidding?” laughed Ragnar, his gaze darting rapidly between Anna and the Valkyrie. “I mean, it’s _Ser Anna._ The queen’s chosen protector. What reason could she have to lie?”

“A _lot_ of reasons, Hugoss,” said the Valkyrie gravely. “Surely you would know. If you died before siring an heir, your brother Thagnar would inherit the Hugoss estate next. Ser Anna, for all her knighthood, has a claim to the throne so far as Queen Elsa has no son or daughter.”

“But Ser Anna told us that she seeks to reclaim the throne _for_ the queen,” insisted Thagnar.

“ _If_ the queen is still alive,” replied the Valkyrie. “The chances of _that_ being what they are, I’d say all Ser Anna has done is made a convincing case for herself as the new queen.”

Before Anna could respond, Reginald’s voice boomed across the room. “And _if_ the queen is dead, as you suggest… then who will wear the crown, if not Ser Anna?” He glared at the Valkyrie, his eyes narrowed into slits.

But to Anna’s surprise, the Valkyrie laughed. She laughed, loud and long; the high-pitched cackle of one who was deeply amused. “I am long past the point of caring about that,” she said with a savage grin. “I am in it for one thing only: to kill Lord Hans.”

Nobody said a word. Kristoff was squirming uncomfortably in his seat, and all three of the Hugosses were staring daggers at the Valkyrie. It was just then that Anna was struck, yet again, by how very young the Valkyrie was. She certainly looked mature – she was tall, and built in a way that even a lumberjack would envy. And her face, too, though undeniably handsome, was the face of one who knew hardship – and pain. For the first time in a long while, Anna felt a pang of regret for taking the life of the late Lady Ysmir Corel, the woman with whom the Valkyrie shared a name.

Anna took a step into the circle, lifting a hand. For a split moment, the Valkyrie started, stepping back into a defensive posture, hand twitching as it reached for her glaive – but Anna lowered her hand to place it over her own chest.

“Me, too,” said Anna quietly. “I want no titles, nor glory, nor fame, nor wealth. I only want Queen Elsa to be safe. And as far as I can tell, that includes killing Lord Hans. I am not your enemy.”

The Valkyrie did not move from her reactive posture. She stood, frozen, eyes locked with Anna’s. “And if the queen is dead?”

“The queen is not dead.”

“How do you know?”

“I know.”

The Valkyrie narrowed her eyes. She slowly lowered her hand. “And how can I trust you?” she asked carefully. “It’s been a year since anyone has seen or heard of you. Whether you were dead, or hiding, or simply gone – nobody knew. And suddenly, you return, just… out of the blue?”

“You can trust her,” came a voice over the Valkyrie’s shoulder. They both looked: Martin’s mouth was a thin, hard line. “I do.”

“You don’t have to trust me,” said Anna, her voice low, and the Valkyrie looked back at her. “You want proof. Well, I don’t have any – here. But there is a grave in the Royal Cemetery, one with my name on it. Anna Arendelle. And it is an empty grave. When we return to Crystalwater, you can see the truth of this yourself. If, then, you are still not satisfied, I will turn myself over to your justice.”

The Valkyrie appeared to consider that one. She rocked back on her heels and folded her arms, giving Anna one last, appraising look. “Fine, then,” she said finally. “And we shall also see if the queen is, truly, still alive. Until then, you will forgive me if I do not call you Your Highness. As far as I’m concerned, you haven’t earned that yet.”

“It’s never bothered me before,” said Anna dryly.

The Valkyrie snorted. “Very well. If you’ll excuse me,” – she looked around at everyone in the room – “my men and I have come a long way, and I had best go see to their comfort. I hope it will not be considered too much of an imposition if we stay the night.”

She looked at Kristoff expectantly. With a very audible “Oh!” of realization, Kristoff straightened up in his chair, cleared his throat, and said, “No problem. Just, uh, it’s probably not a big enough fort for all of your men.”

The Valkyrie nodded her acknowledgement, and swiftly turned on her heels and marched out the doors to the hall, Ser Cedar at her back.

When the doors had shut, Anna looked over the remainders of the council. The three Hugosses looked fitful and annoyed, and Reginald looked drawn and tired – but it was Martin that Anna really noticed. Though he was tall – now taller than Anna – and looked and sounded so little like the Martin she remembered, his eyes were bright and wide, and she was reminded inextricably of the boy she had always known.

Kristoff cleared his throat, again. “Um, you, uh, my lords…” He gestured vaguely at the Hugosses and Reginald. “You are also welcome to stay the night. I’m sure the, ah, servants…? I’m sure they can help you… establish… yourselves.”

Ragnar and Thagnar stared, baffled, at Kristoff, obviously put off by this clumsy display, but before they could say or do anything, Reginald took the lead and bowed graciously. “You are most kind, my lord. We will see to our arrangements presently.”

“And get some real food,” added Ragnar, as the four of them filed out of the hall.

When they had gone, Kristoff slumped again in his chair, muttering audibly “Reindeers are better than people.”

Anna turned to Martin, who, she was surprised to see, was watching her with a look of intense curiosity. “Ser Martin,” she began, tentatively, “does… Her Ladyship not have need of you?”

“She does,” he agreed, “but she can wait for now. I just… I wanted a moment to speak to you in private.”

Kristoff sat up, his eyes darting between the two of them. “Um. Should I go, then?”

Quickly, Martin waved him off. “No, no, Kristoff, you’re fine. I mean, er, Lord Kristoff. It’s just…” He shrugged his shoulders limply. “I felt odd about that – that whole meeting just now.”

“You, too?” said Anna dryly.

“It’s just… the place, you know?” said Martin, scratching the back of his neck. “Being back here in Burrowstown. It just feels a little weird. And the last time I saw you, I thought you were going to your doom. You dropped off the face of the earth. And then, just as the storm starts to worsen, Kaepora comes and tells me that you’ve returned, and you’re going to Burrowstown. And then we all get here, and…” He shook his head. “It’s all a bit much.”

“Tell me about it,” muttered Kristoff, his voice low. He dropped his gaze. “In a single night I went from reunited with my best friend, to facing the chopping block, to the Lord Mayor of my home-town. ‘A bit much’ is putting it a bit lightly.”

“What happened to you?” asked Anna, reminded suddenly that Kristoff had failed to make their rendezvous the previous night. “I waited at Astrid’s house for you, but you never showed up.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” said Kristoff sheepishly. “When I reported back to Lord Brendan, he didn’t buy my story that we were jumped by a band of Martin’s marauders. He said Martin’s men were all to the west, not east. Of course, I knew that, but it was too late to change my story. I think he was suspicious of me, anyway. He had me de-masked, and that was when he lost it. It’s a good thing you showed up when you did. And what was that letter about? Why didn’t you tell me that I was – I was Astrid and Edward’s son when we met up on the road?”

“I didn’t know,” said Anna truthfully. “I found that letter in her cabin.”

Kristoff shifted in his seat, working his mouth. “You know,” he said after a lengthy pause, “I always wondered what it would be like if I knew who my parents were. And now that I know, well, I guess I’m a bit underwhelmed. My dad was a total git. And I didn’t get to talk to Astrid, much. Maybe that can change, though.”

A shot ran through Anna’s heart with sudden force. She took a deep breath. “Astrid is dead,” she said hollowly. “Been dead for months.”

Kristoff’s eyes widened, and Martin looked at the ground. “By the gods, Anna,” said Kristoff. “I’m sorry, I – I didn’t know.”

“She’s in a better place, now,” said Anna stiffly, not meeting his eyes.

Kristoff drooped, and nobody said anything.

“She was a good teacher,” said Martin at length, breaking the silence. Anna nodded her agreement, and Kristoff piped in, “I always liked her. I still get chills when I think about that time she slapped Brendan.”

Anna smiled in spite of herself as Kristoff went on. He sighed melodramatically. “Well, I guess that’s that. I finally learn who my parents are, and it turns out they’re both dead.”

Anna’s smile faded. “I know how you feel on that one,” she said quietly.

“Oh, yeah,” said Kristoff, looking at Anna like he had never seen her before in his life. He opened his mouth pointlessly, evidently at a loss for words.

“So, it’s true, then?” asked Martin, a grave look on his face. “You’re really a princess of Arendelle?”

“It is,” said Anna. “I know how it sounds, but it is true. And I know it’s true for the same reason I know Els- the queen is still alive. When I was very young, only five years old, there was… there was an accident. I was hurt, and the only way to save my life was to leave me with the trolls.”

“An accident?” repeated Kristoff and Martin, in unison. They looked at each other. “What happened?”

“It was Elsa,” said Anna, and suddenly an odd apprehension started to build up in her. “The queen, I mean. She… do you remember that story,” she locked eyes with Kristoff, “the story about the eternal winter? And how all the members of the Royal Family are descended from the Ice Queen? Well, somehow, Elsa has magic like that, too. It’s really unbelievable, she can conjure snow and ice, and – well, she… she hurt me with it. But it _was_ an accident.” Her throat clenched as she thought about it. “She would never hurt me on purpose.”

Kristoff, who had heard of Elsa’s magic before, just gave an affirmative sort of nod; but Martin looked distracted. He furrowed his brow. “In that story,” he began slowly, “the Ice Queen’s magic caused an endless winter all across the land: a raging blizzard. Whole villages were covered in snow, cities were frozen and starved out… rather like what’s happening now.” He gave Anna a serious look. “You don’t think…?”

An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of Anna’s stomach. “Yes,” she admitted. “This storm is the doing of Elsa’s magic, and that’s how I know she’s still alive. But she is in danger, and she needs our help.”

“ _She_ is in danger?” echoed Martin, his expression souring. “For the past year, I have wandered all across Arendelle. I have seen harbors frozen to the sand. I have seen vast fields of snow where, before, there was a village or even a city. I have seen forests that once teemed with life turned white and dead. If this storm is the same as that storm of legend, well…” He paused for a moment as his frown deepened. “The endless winter only ended when the Ice Queen was slain. What if that’s the only way to end this one, too?”

 As Anna stared at Martin, a cold feeling bristled through her veins. The very implication clenched her heart, and little waves of doubt beat against her. What if it Martin was right? He wasn’t – but what if…?

Out of the corner of Anna’s eyes, she saw Kristoff was also staring at her, a slight frown on his worried face. “I don’t know,” she said finally, in a low voice. “But I have an idea.” She reached over her shoulder and pulled Wintersbane free. She swung it out in front of her, holding the flat of the bluish, crystalline blade in her other palm. “This is Wintersbane.”

Martin made a choking noise, and his eyes boggled as he stared at the sword in Anna’s hands. “What – _the sword of legend?_ No…”

“Indeed, it is. I’m sure of it. This is the same blade that ended the last endless winter. I think this sword is the key to ending the storm, in some way other than…” She swallowed, her throat suddenly growing tight. “Like I said, Elsa’s in danger. I don’t think she’s completely in control of the magic. I think she’s being used. I don’t know for certain if I can end the winter, but I do know that my queen – my sister – is in trouble. She was tricked by Hans, and now she’s trapped in the Arenborg. And before we can even think about ending the storm, we need to stop Lord Hans and free her.”

Martin stared at the sword for a long moment before he met Anna’s eyes again. He took in a deep breath through his nose. “All a bit much,” he sighed heavily. “That’s a fact. All right, fine.” He lifted up his hands, as in defeat. “I believe you. You’ve never lied to me before, and I can’t imagine you’d start now. For gods’ sakes, you’re Ser Anna. _Princess_ Anna.” He dropped to one knee. “I swear, by my honor, that you have my support.”

Anna lowered her head. “Ser Martin. Thank you.”

He returned quickly to his feet, a funny smile on his face. “And do not worry about Lady Ysmir. I will talk some sense into her. Her opinion of you has been somewhat soured, thanks to –”

But before Anna could find out what soured the Valkyrie’s opinion of her, the doors to the hall burst open, and a contingent of men-at-arms entered in. They proceeded the length of the hall to kneel before the dais.

Kristoff looked uncomfortable. “Um, er. What do you want?”

“My lord,” said one of the men, “it’s the prisoners – Lord Brendan’s prisoners. The big one keeps asking about you.”

“By the gods!” exclaimed Kristoff, jumping to his feet. “Anders! Oaken!”

He bounded off the dais as the men-at-arms all got to their feet. “We’ll take you to them, my lord.”

“Yes, and hurry, for goodness’ sake!”

As they filed out of the room, Anna and Martin looked back at each other – and the look on Anna’s face, without a doubt, betrayed her worry.

“Are they okay?” asked Martin.

“Alive,” replied Anna. “Barely.”

Martin sighed. “I suppose that’s something. Just as well, I had better get going. The Valkyrie will want to have a word.”

Anna nodded. “All right. See you later.”

As Martin turned to go, he appeared to remember something as he suddenly swiveled back. “Oh, before I forget. Maple is with us.”

Anna’s heart jumped and immediately sank again at the mention of Maple. “Maple?” she repeated in a mixed tone.

“Yes. She’s doing very well.” Martin smiled. “She’ll be happy to see you again.”

Anna thought she would, but as excited as she was at the prospect of seeing her dear friend again, an uneasy worry pervaded in her mind. She wondered how much Maple had changed since last they met, and how she felt about their last meeting.

That afternoon, Kristoff’s men got Anna situated in a room in the fortress’s north wing, a cozy room with a fluffy bed and a warm fireplace. When alone, Anna summoned a flame, set aside all her belongings, and lay down on her bed, grateful for the opportunity to relax so carelessly. She quickly drifted off into a warm, deep sleep.

Anna woke when it was dark outside. There was a light rapping at the door.

She stirred from her slumber in a groggy state, eyelids thick and heavy as she rolled out of the warm bed. The fire had died down to embers while she slept, and the window, not shut from the outside, permitted a chilling draft. Anna rubbed her eyes and stumbled over to the door, wondering how long she had slept.

She opened the door, and, to her unguarded astonishment, she saw Maple standing there. And it was certainly Maple, too, for although her hair was now tied in an up-braid, and she was wearing a brilliant and finely tailored robe of bright lilac, there was no mistaking the green of her hair, nor the ebullient energy in her piercing emerald eyes.

Her arms were full with a bottle of wine, two goblets, and a bundle wrapped in brown leather, and when she saw Anna in the door, she smiled wide, showing her missing tooth. “Heya,” she said, somewhat shyly. “Can I come in?”

“Um,” said Anna, momentarily at a loss for words. “Um. Yeah. Sure.”

Anna backed away from the door, letting Maple enter. She sidled in, careful to keep the bounty held in her arms from spilling, and let herself over to a short table set beside the hearth. She unceremoniously dumped the contents of her arms on the table, and, gripping the sides of her arms for warmth, turned around to face Anna.

Anna wasn’t sure what she was expecting, although, knowing Maple, it should have been a hug. Sure enough, Maple had all but jumped on her, throwing her arms around Anna and pulling her in for a very tight hug.

Neither of them said anything, and Anna was fine with that.

After what must have been a minute but felt only like seconds, Maple pulled away with a soft sniffle. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said in a slight voice. “I… I was so worried about you. After all that stuff I said to you, and the next thing I hear is you’re the Lord Regent’s prisoner. I was… I thought I’d… I thought I’d never get the chance to…. to tell you I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” repeated Anna, blinking in confusion. “Sorry for what?”

For a moment, Maple met Anna’s eyes, but quickly looked away. “For being a bad friend.”

Something in the way Maple said it made Anna’s heart break. “Maple,” she said softly. “You’re not a bad friend. It was just…” She shrugged emphatically, at a loss to describe exactly what it had “just” been.

“It was just the kind of thing a bad friend would do,” Maple finished for her. “I regretted it the moment it happened. Even while it was happening, I knew I was being stupid.” At this, she held up her left hand, and Anna saw the blue ring, with its magnificent, moving swirls, sitting squarely at the base of Maple’s ring finger. “I thought about you. I hoped, prayed you’d be okay. Even after you disappeared. They said I was nuts, that you were _clearly_ dead, but – hey!” She flashed a toothy grin. “Look who was right!” She gave Anna a light punch in the arm. “Still kicking ass, huh?”

Anna grinned back. “Trying. It’s not as easy as winning a tourney.”

Maple snorted a laugh. “Oh, I bet. Well, come on. You missed supper, so I brought you something.” She flitted gracefully over to the hearth-side table, and Anna followed, closing the window as she went. Maple was pushing a few chunks of wood into the fireplace, carried over from a small stockpile just nearby.

“Light it, please,” said Maple, backing away and rubbing her arms again.

Without thinking, Anna raised a finger and pointed it at the fireplace. “Bombos,” she said.

Next moment, the fireplace erupted into flames, a healthy fire roaring mightily from the logs within. Maple’s jaw dropped, and her head swiveled to stare at Anna.

“When did you learn to do _that?_ ” she asked, in what was unmistakably an accusatory tone. As Anna assumed one of the seats by the fire, Maple followed suit, hands held up to receive the warmth of the flames.

“A dragon taught it to me,” said Anna, realizing with a pang how long it had been since she and Maple had really talked.

“Awesome,” said Maple with a grin, and she rubbed her hands together.

When Maple had satisfactorily warmed herself by the fire, she turned back to the table and the items she had dumped on it earlier. “Okay, so I brought you some bread and a strip of salted beef. Oh, and a block of cheese. Forgot about that.” She named the foodstuffs as she produced them from the leathern bundle and set them on the table. “I also brought some wine – since it’s a cold night, and all.”

Anna thanked her for the kindness and, being that it was the first meal she had eaten in almost a year, dove into the food with so much gusto she surprised even herself. Meanwhile, Maple poured out two cups of wine, and she cradled one in her hands as she watched Anna eat.

It was a few minutes of silence – or near enough, but for the sounds of fire crackling and Anna’s eating – before she had slowed down enough to contemplate the wine. She downed the cup in a single go, and set it down with a gasp of air. Only then did she realize Maple was staring at her.

“Uh,” said Anna, all of the sudden feeling self-conscious, “I’ve been asleep for eleven months. I haven’t had much to eat.”

“I was wondering if there was an excuse,” replied Maple slyly, and Anna saw she was now smirking. “I kept thinking, ‘Is this how a princess is supposed to eat?’”

Anna felt herself turn red. “Oh, yeah,” said Anna, not quite meeting Maple’s gaze. “I… guess you’ve heard.”

“A little,” said Maple, and she leaned forward in her chair. “But there are a lot of details I’m not clear on. Like, uh… what in the Goddess’s name _happened_ to you?”

Maple listened raptly as Anna, slowly at first, began to recount the details of what had happened to her since their last meeting – the confrontation with Hans, the dungeons, the escape from the Arenborg, meeting the ghosts of Elina and Andrew. She explained, as best she could, the story of her being raised by trolls, and the secret history of the Ice Queen. When she got to the part about Wintersbane, Maple’s eyes went as wide as saucers, and she asked if she could see it.

Anna placed the sword carefully on the table, taking care not to upset the now half-empty wine bottle. Maple leaned over the side of the table, looking the sword up and down and running the tips of her fingers along the edges and handle.

“Wow, gosh, that is bright,” she said mildly, sitting back down when she had finished looking at it.

“Bright?” repeated Anna.

“Yeah, bright. You know, bright with magic. _Brimming_ with it.”

“Oh. Well, I should hope so,” said Anna. “It’ll need to be to deal with all… this.” She gestured vaguely at the window, in what she hoped would be interpreted in a catch-all kind of way.

“Yeah,” agreed Maple, her eyes following Anna’s gesture to the window.

“Anyway, that’s about it,” said Anna, sitting back in her chair. “I just hope it’ll be enough to save the queen.”

“Right,” said Maple, and suddenly her eyes flashed with an interested gleam. “Say, speaking of the queen…” She paused for a moment, looking as though she was thinking carefully over what she wanted to say next. “The last time we… talked, you mentioned that there was someone else that you had… feelings for.”

Anna blushed a little as she remembered. She nodded slightly. “The queen, yes. Sorry about that, by the way –”

“No, don’t be sorry!” said Maple quickly. “I’m okay with it. I haven’t told anyone, or anything. But… do you still feel that way?”

The look in Maple’s eyes wasn’t malicious or judgmental in any way, but Anna still got the impression that Maple expected the answer to be “no,” for some reason that was obvious even though it so soundly evaded Anna’s knowing.

“Yes, I do,” said Anna tentatively. “Why do you ask?”

Maple did look a little surprised. Her eyebrows quirked slightly. “Well, it’s just that… you two are sisters, aren’t you?”

“Yes, we are,” said Anna, a little uneasily. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“It’s just a little different,” admitted Maple, after a momentary pause. She shrugged her shoulders and poured herself another cup of wine. “I mean, I guess you royal-types go for that kind of thing often enough – you wouldn’t be the first royal siblings to be in that position, trust me – but… people say the gods frown on such unions.”

This was complete news to Anna. “They do?” she asked, frowning.

Maple cocked her head, taking a quick sip of wine. “You really don’t know? You’ve never thought it might be peculiar for someone to take that kind of liking to their own sister?”

“It never crossed my mind,” said Anna truthfully. “For most of my life, I didn’t even know I had a sister. You say the gods frown on it?”

“Oh, well, don’t put much stake in that,” said Maple with a careless flick of the wrist. “The gods frown on all types of things. You wouldn’t believe the things the southern gods find to get anxious about. And anyway, the Goddess has no proscriptions about it, that I know of. I only thought I’d mention it because a lot of folk are liable to get superstitious if their queen became intimate with her sister.”

Anna stared into her wine cup, mind astir with troubling thoughts. But as she thought about it, it wasn’t the idea that a romantic affiliation between two sisters was wrong that bothered her, but rather the thought of her interest in Elsa at all. Maple had spoken of it in such a cavalier way that Anna found herself thinking seriously about it, a fantasy she hadn’t had since the time Elsa had taken her in her arms and kissed her. Of course, there was no doubt in her mind that Anna wanted that, again, and more than anything – but it seemed so absurd next to the immensity of the task still left to her. There was so much left to do, and so many reasons it could not be. The idea of a life of love spent with Elsa was a pleasant dream, but it was, after all, only that: a dream.

At long length, Anna stirred, still staring into her wine cup. “I don’t know if that’s something I can afford to think about right now,” she said quietly. She lifted her head. “There’s a lot I need to do. A lot else that comes first.”

Maple gave a terse, sober nod, but when she looked at Anna, her eyes were bright. “Maybe… after?”

  1. The word sent a chill down her spine. _If there was an after,_ she almost said;but as Anna looked up and met Maple’s happy, hoping eyes, she lost the nerve to say it. “Yeah.” She forced a smile. “Maybe after.”



“Good,” declared Maple with a slight, quivering smirk. “I’d hate to think we each missed the other’s wedding. It’s too late for you, but not for me!”

Anna blinked. “Er, wedding? What do you…” She blinked again. “You’re married?”

Maple’s mouth twisted into a wry smirk, a very Maple kind of grin. “Yep.” She held up her other hand now, and this time Anna saw it: a smooth band of winding silver metal at the base of Maple’s finger.

Anna stared at it, completely taken aback. “With who? Erm, uh, to whom? I mean, uh, who is – whom are you married – when did you – ”

Maple broke off a short giggle. “What, didn’t anyone tell you?”

“No? Tell me what?”

Maple pouted suddenly, barely not folding her arms. “Gosh, Ysmir knows that you and I have a history. Y’know, as friends. I at least thought she’d _mention_ it to you.”

Anna blinked, and next moment, she was on her feet, heart pounding furiously as she realized. “The Valkyrie?”

In slow motion, Maple nodded “yes.”

So many feelings rushed to the forefront of her mind that Anna had enormous difficulty sorting them. She opened her mouth to express her congratulations, but only managed expressing her confusion: “But how did you – I mean, when did you – why did – so are you two – how was the…?”

Maple laughed lightly, and she motioned for Anna to sit down. When Anna did, her mouth sewn shut by a sudden access of self-awareness, Maple began to speak. “It’s really a funny story. We met on the road. I was with Martin’s band – by the way, thank you for that – and we had been tracking Ysmir’s people for weeks. Finally, we caught up with her, and, well, she didn’t trust us at first. She demanded to know who we were. I still didn’t know why you sent Martin to get me, but when we were face-to-face, suddenly I knew. It was because of what you told me, about who my mom and dad were.” She paused briefly, a contemplative look on her face. “So I told her I was the heiress to Eastgreen, like you said, and that we were on the run from Lord Hans. And that’s how we met up. It was only a little while after that that I came to realize what a remarkable woman she is.” Maple gave a dreamy smile. “She felt the same way, and… well, now our houses are united. Linnaeus and Corel. For better or worse.” Her eyes darted quickly from side to side. She leaned in close. “Mostly for better.”

As Maple sat there in her seat, grinning like a cat, Anna felt an immense wave of thankfulness wash over her. She was completely, unspeakably glad this had happened, and that Maple had cause to be happy now. She even felt grateful for the Valkyrie.

Without thinking, she stood up again, crossed around the table, and pulled Maple into a close hug.

When they pulled apart, Anna felt tears in her eyes, and saw them in Maple’s too. “Congratulations,” she said in a thick voice.

“Thank you,” said Maple. She sniffled, and then in a split instant changed her tone. “By the way, when we first met, Ysmir asked me a lot about you. I might not have given her the… best of impressions.”

“Oh,” said Anna, and in spite of herself, she cracked a smile. “That explains a little.”

Maple looked up at Anna earnestly. “She really is a wonderful woman. I have no doubt she can be hard, but don’t you worry. She won’t abandon you.” She jumped out of her chair and grabbed Anna’s hands in her own. “Both of us – Linnaeus and Corel – we’re behind you all the way.” Maple smirked and dipped her chin the tiniest amount. “Your Grace.”

Anna couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat. She settled only for smiling. 

* * *

 

 

Later that evening, as Anna was preparing for bed – weariness had caught up with her again despite her long nap that afternoon – a quick knock at her door prompted her reply.

“Yes?” she called.

“It’s Kristoff,” came the response.

Anna went to the door and opened it, and there was Kristoff, all the same except for now he wore a heavy fur cloak, thrown over his shoulders and clasped with a silver wolf’s head pin. He also looked extremely tired, a feeling Anna could well-relate to.

“How was your day?” he growled, entering Anna’s room without waiting to be invited. Anna closed the door behind him. “Busy?”

She knew it was just a friendly jab, but she was annoyed nonetheless. “I had a long night,” she said dryly.

Kristoff laughed as he brought around one of the chairs and sat in it, the back to the fire. “Fair enough,” he admitted with a flickering smile. “I also saw Anders and Oaken, today.”

“Oh?” said Anna, doing her best to maintain a neutral, conversational tone; though, inwardly, her heart gave a painful jump.

“Yes. That was the easiest meeting of the day, all things considered. They’re still alive – Anders is ill, but thank the gods, he’s still alive.” Kristoff rubbed his eyes sullenly, as he sat back in his chair. “Boy, nobody ever told me running a city was so much work.”

“It’ll get easier,” said Anna, without knowing at all whether it would get easier or not. She sat down on the edge of the bed. “Everything’s going fine, though?”

“Yeah,” said Kristoff. “Some of the more skeptical guys looked over that letter you had, but there was little doubting its authenticity. Armin was one of them, but I think he already knew.”

“Martin’s father,” said Anna, her voice darkening. “And what does he make of his son, now?”

Kristoff shrugged. “Hard to say. He won’t talk to anyone. To be honest, I think he’s ashamed.”

“He should be,” said Anna coldly.

Kristoff shrugged again, and looked over at the window. It was closed, but occasionally rattled with the wind outside. “You know, it occurs to me that I don’t know half of what I’m supposed to do. The people who have been handling this kind of thing for awhile all know it better. And there’s even town-folk who have more mayoring sense than me. And Brendan was such a proper git, well… it kind of makes me wonder how necessary this whole lord business is, anyway.”

“What do you mean?” asked Anna.

“Just that it doesn’t make much sense to defer to a megalomaniacal little lunatic _or_ a know-nothing stable-boy. Clearly, neither of us is fit to rule.”

Anna gave a puzzled frown. “You sell yourself short,” she said earnestly. “And besides, _someone_ has to rule.”

“Do they?”

“How else would you do it?”

“Ah, hell, I don’t know,” groused Kristoff as he massaged his temples. “I prefer delivering ice.”

“You just need experience,” said Anna with a firm nod. “Nobody’s a natural from the start. Even Elsa had her own learning curve to deal with.”

“The _queen_ is _brimming_ with natural charisma and authority,” retorted Kristoff sourly. Though, as he said this, his expression changed. He no longer looked mopey or dour, but was now staring at Anna in a reserved kind of way. “Anna… about the queen…”

“No, thank you,” Anna cut him off. She didn’t think she could handle another conversation about her feelings for Elsa.

“Wait,” Kristoff held up a hand. “I know you talked about this with Maple earlier. I just met her in the halls, going into the Valkyrie’s chambers. You talked about it with me, too. I’m not going to ask about that.”

“Oh,” said Anna, suddenly confused. “Then… what?”

“Well,” said Kristoff, “it was just something Maple said. She seemed really happy about it, and I couldn’t understand why, because, well… Anyway, then she told me that you said something might happen… _after._ ”

A load of rocks fell into Anna’s stomach. “Yes,” she confirmed, her voice quiet.

“Martin,” Kristoff went on, “also seemed to be under the same impression. Not about anything with the queen, mind you, but at supper he spoke at length about the shape of the realm after Lord Hans was deposed. He speculated you would retain the Lord Protector position as Lady Protector.”

Anna nodded her head, still waiting for Kristoff to make his point.

Kristoff looked away, his hands working together uneasily. “On the road, you… you told me that you were… that you didn’t have much time. That you would die if you went back to her. To the queen.” He paused. “I only wanted to know why you didn’t tell anyone else.”

This was the last thing Anna expected to need an answer for, and she didn’t know right away. “What?” she asked.

“They’re your friends, Anna,” said Kristoff. “And now they’re your compatriots. Don’t they have a right to know the truth?”

The truth. When phrased like that, Anna felt incredibly foolish. But as she thought about it, the reason became rather obvious. She simply couldn’t imagine their reaction if she told them the truth. What good could it do?

“It’s to protect them,” she told Kristoff, meeting his unhappy gaze. “If they knew, it would only hurt them.”

“But what is the point?” Kristoff asked, a sudden note of hysteria just on the edge of his voice. “If you’re going to die, then why bother?”

But Kristoff trailed off even as he said it. Perhaps he knew what Anna was going to say. Anna gave a wan smile and said, simply, “It is my decision.”

Kristoff stood out of his chair, and Anna stood too. He pulled her in for a hug, close and warm, and moved to leave. In the door threshold, he turned around. “Well,” he said, “I hope it’s the right decision.” And then he was gone.

Anna sat down on her bed, alone again in the room. A low fire was still burning in the hearth. Anna went over to it and disturbed it so only a few small cinders were smoldering, and the room was dark. She then went to the window and opened it against the chilly night air. The moon and stars were out, an island of sky in a sea of clouds. She took a deep breath of the black wind, went over to her bed, lay down, and fell asleep.


	28. The Queensmoot

Anna was running up a long, ever-winding stair, gasping for breath. The stairs continued to climb upwards, unceasingly, and her lungs burned.

" _Anna!"_  A voice echoed down the stairwell. Anna felt her heart jump into her throat. Faster, she needed to go  _faster…_

But the more she ran, the longer the stairs seemed to go on, and the voice grew fainter and fainter. The stairs became icy and slick, but still Anna ran. What other choice did she have? The stairs stretched so far ahead, and so far behind, that all she could do was climb.

She awoke with a start, numb and cold despite the layers of quilts and sheets over her. The window was open, and in came terrible sweeps of frigid air.

She threw herself over the side of the bed, grasping around for the hilt and buckle of Wintersbane. She found it and, with stiff fingers, grabbed it and pulled it to her. Immediately, a wave of… well, not quite "warmth" spread through her body. It was simply non-cold, and perhaps that was warmth, but noways did Anna feel comfortable. She only felt alive.

Barely alive.

* * *

The black timber walls rose up before them, their pointed tips and crenellations dark against the blue sky beyond. The sound of rushing water grew loud as, nearby, the great rivers of Vardale came together.

They were met some way from the walls by a pair of horsemen that had evidently been dispatched by the city to see to their arrival. They approached with trepidation, constantly turning their gaze skywards as though they could not believe their eyes.

The Valkyrie led a small party – consisting of Martin, Ser Cedar, and Anna – to meet with the envoys. Since the incident, the Valkyrie did not let Anna out of her sight, a point Anna wanted to take with pride, but only felt as a heavy weight in her heart.

"Greetings, men of Vardale," hailed the Valkyrie, as they drew near. "We are –"

"Where is she?" interrupted one of the envoys, a man with long, unkempt black hair, covered by an ugly fur cap.

"Excuse me?"

"Where is the princess?" clarified the envoy, scanning the four of them with his beady eyes. "The long-lost princess of Arendelle. We were sent to see that she is safe, first and foremost."

The Valkyrie nodded low, and stepped aside. "Here, she is."

Anna urged Epona forward as the man gave Anna a quick look up and down. He leaned over to his cohort. "She's not  _dressed_  like a princess," he said, in a voice just loud enough for Anna to hear.

"You bloody idiot," said the other man,  _thwapp_ ing the first on the back of the head so hard that he nearly lost his seat. "That's on account of she's a  _warrior_  princess. You ain't never heard of a warrior princess that wore dresses, did you?"

"They had occasion!" wheedled the first as he whirled around in his seat to face his attacker. "I'm sure them Svithron princesses didn't go out always clad in leather and iron."

"Just because you're too lazy to suit up don't mean they are. Now, mind your manners and show some respect!" said the second, and he promptly hopped off the back of his horse to hit the ground kneeling. The first quickly followed, and before anyone else could say a word, both envoys were kneeling in the snow, their heads bowed before Anna.

"Your Grace, the Lord Mayor of Vardale is your man," said the second envoy, without looking up. "You have his manor and his city as your safe harbor, and you have his steel if you should need it."

Anna nodded automatically in response. "My many thanks. Your Lord Mayor is most gracious."

"And most lazy," interjected the Valkyrie, apparently finding her voice again. "Why did he not come out and greet us himself?"

"Begging your pardon, m'lady," said the second envoy, standing up again. "His Lordship is in bed with the sick. He has ordered me to act as his man while he recovers. The cold, you understand. I am Rolf Thomsson," he thumped his chest with a fist, "and this is Gar Jensson," he gestured to the first man.

"M'lady," said Gar, doffing his fur cap.

"Charmed," said the Valkyrie, in a way that communicated she was not charmed at all. Anna spotted a sidelong glance in her direction, and the Valkyrie quickly changed the subject. "I was given to understand that Ser Harris Morning would be meeting us here as well, along with a contingent of other lords from across the kingdom?"

"Indeed,  _Lord_  Harris is in town," confirmed Rolf, smoothing back his brown hair. "And he is prepared to relinquish the title if the good Lord Reginald is produced, safe and sound. As for the rest, they all await to see the princess."

"Very good," said the Valkyrie, her eyes lightening a little. "Then it is time for the moot."

* * *

Anna lay down in bed with Wintersbane held close to her body, clutching it like a lifeline. She was not able to get back to sleep, and sure enough, the sun eventually rose. In the early day, Anna got her things together, suited up, and went for a walk.

The morning was cool and bright. The sky above was blue, though in the distance, wherever you looked, dark clouds loomed ominously. It was a sight to believe, and the Valkyrie's people did not fail to note it. Anna walked among them and heard them speak of the eye of the storm, and pass rumors on what, why, or how it was.

More than half those rumors seemed to do with her, as knights, servants, and townsfolk alike shot her awed, reverent looks wherever she went. When she returned the glance, they would unfailingly bow their head and shoulders, and look away.

The Valkyrie, however, was much more direct. Later in the morning, as Anna watched a horse get dressed with bags and saddles, the Valkyrie came out with a contingent of men behind her to greet her.

"Ser Anna," began the Valkyrie curtly, "Ser Martin tells me that you have an explanation for this interesting change of weather. Something to do with a magic sword?"

Anna merely shrugged. "See for yourself." She drew out Wintersbane, the blade glittering in the morning sun, and, with a slight pang, handed it over. The Valkyrie moved to accept it – but no sooner had she placed her hands on the hilt and blade, than she recoiled with a wince of pain.

"By the gods!" she exclaimed, rubbing her hands together as she took a step backwards.

Anna felt a sudden flash of concern. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"That sword…" said the Valkyrie, "it's… bitingly cold." She gave Anna a suspicious look. "Like… touching frozen steel."

Anna frowned. That the sword seemed to emanate warmth to her was not a comforting thought in the least, though, at this point, Anna had grown well-accustomed to thoughts on her own peculiarities – her own freakishness.

"It  _is_  Wintersbane," said Anna, clearing her head with a quick shake. "You are probably feeling the magic within. But it will protect us from the storm."

"Which is fortunate, as I mentioned earlier," put in Martin, "as the storm has been worsening since a few nights ago."

"What do you mean?"

Martin cleared his throat and glanced over at the Valkyrie. "Since you showed up, the storm has been getting worse. The snowfall has been heavier, the gusts stronger – but the worst part has been…" He hesitated, momentarily. "The snowmen."

"Snowmen?" repeated Anna, blinking.

"Yes, snowmen. Ordinary snowmen, out alone in the blizzard, with no accounting for how they got there."

"I thought it was simply the men being superstitious until I saw it for myself," added the Valkyrie, her voice suddenly much softer. "It was a few nights ago, while we were marching. I saw something off the path, something wandering around in the blizzard. I took it for a monster, and I led a department of men to hunt it down, but it was maddeningly elusive. Whenever we got close, it would seem to disappear, only to reappear hundreds of yards away. We chased it into the woods, and tracked it to a forest clearing. But… when we got to the forest clearing, all we found was… a snowman." The Valkyrie spared the sword a second, and this time, uneasy, glance. "Your arrival is well-timed, I should think."

A shiver ran down Anna's spine, and, for a moment, she had a vision of the troll cairn, filled with tall, silent snowmen, with deep, hollow eyes. "Well-timed, indeed," she mumbled, sheathing Wintersbane again.

After, the Valkyrie invited Anna to lunch with them, to discuss the strategy of the coming days and weeks. With no reason to refuse, and, in fact, being eager to get under way, Anna was in Kristoff's great hall at noon, sitting around a sturdy oak table that had been placed at the foot of the dais. In addition to Anna and the Valkyrie, Kristoff, Martin, Reginald, and the three Hugosses had joined them. The latter of whom looked especially grateful for the warmth and the food.

Servants brought out a hearty, winter-worthy fare of thick brown stew, stale bread, soft goat cheese, and mashed radishes. Anna did not think twice about this, accustomed as she had become to servants providing food whenever she was not on the road, but Kristoff, who now sat at the head of a table, did.

"It's strange," he remarked, "how much the Lord Mayor's fortunes changed. Lord Edward had enough servants to count on one hand, and no more; and about as many sworn swords."

"That's what enfeoffment will do for a man," said the Valkyrie with a sniff. "Lord Brendan was named Lord Paramount of the Dale after the False Feast."

Reginald snorted loudly. "Lord Paramount of the Dale, indeed."

"So what did that entail?" asked Ragnar Hugoss, as he stirred around his brown stew. "Any power come with that title, or…?"

"Some did," said Martin. "You are familiar with the Four Regions, yes, my lord?"

"Please, Ser Martin, call me Ragnar," answered Ragnar. "And of course I am." He counted them off on his fingers. "There's the Wings, Eastgreen, the Up-And-Downs, and the Dale. They are the four largest fiefs in the kingdom, and are ruled by Lords Paramount, correct?"

"More-or-less," said Martin. "In each of the other Four Regions, the various lords are pledged to the Lords Paramount who, in turn, are each pledged to the crown. Except, however, for the Dale – from which we get the name 'Arendelle', and which is a direct property of the crown."

Ragnar nodded. "I see. So Lord Hans granted the Dale to Lord Brendan as though it was like the other three regions?"

"He did. And I shouldn't have to say it wasn't his to give."

At this, Kristoff threw his hands up defensively, dropping his spoon into the bowl of stew in front of him. He looked over at Anna. "Sorry, your majesty. You can have it back."

Anna stifled a laugh, and Reginald chuckled loudly. "Consider it a loan," he said. "You're watching over it for the queen."

While Ragnar and Aagnar laughed, Thagnar scratched his chin, his brow furrowed in thought. "Do the Four Regions consist of the entire kingdom?" he asked. "I've never heard of father paying fealty to anyone but the crown. But he isn't a Lord Paramount."

"No," answered the Valkyrie. "There are parts of the kingdom without such intermediary lords. Crystalwater is one such, and as the Wings sit directly athwart both the Earthspine and the Barrowings, I can tell you that they recognize no overlords in those territories, either."

"I've never been to the Barrowings," said Thagnar. "Do they even recognize the rule of the crown?"

"They're ruled by the strongest among them," said Anna. "I visited the Barrowings last year on the queen's business."

"And do they acknowledge they're part of a kingdom?" asked Thagnar.

Anna thought about it. "Yes," she said carefully, "but to them, deeds speak louder than words."

"Well," said the Valkyrie, and now Anna noticed she was staring at her, "deeds are often pursuant to words." She continued to stare thoughtfully at Anna before she turned to look around the table at large. "And with that, I suppose we had best start on discussing our strategy now."

She pushed her bowl of stew away, and leaned her elbows on the table, hands clasped in front of her face. "The current plan is to marshal a wide coalition of loyalists, group together, and march quickly on Crystalwater. Lord Brendan was Hans's one steadfast ally in the field. As long as he held, Hans had no cause to fear any threat to his rule. But now, with Brendan's fort in our hands, we can gather our forces freely."

Reginald nodded his big, hairy head. "We should send your magic bird to all the lords of the Dale and the Up-And-Downs, including my dear little brother, and hold a meeting at Vardale."

"That was my thinking," said the Valkyrie. "We could gather in force in a week's time, and march on Crystalwater some thousands strong, before Hans even has time to know that Lord Brendan's been unseated."

"But what of Eastgreen?" said Thagnar. "Eastgreen can field half again as many men as the other three Regions combined. Even if we laid siege to Crystalwater with five thousand men, the Lord of Eastgreen would need scarcely a fortnight to mobilize ten thousand – perhaps less, with the snow, but still."

At this, the Valkyrie gave an odd smirk. "Eastgreen currently has no accepted lord," she said wryly. "They are a sleeping giant. As for that, my wife is the only surviving heiress of House Linnaeus."

"That's all well and good," said Ragnar, "but  _anyone_  can just turn up with a claim."

"My brother makes a good point," said Thagnar. "How do you plan on enforcing her claim? Is it possible to do so before we march on Crystalwater? I would feel a lot better if we brought ten thousand men to knock down the white walls. No natural force could stop us in that case."

The Valkyrie frowned uncertainly, evidently thinking hard for a good response. She was saved the trouble, however, when Reginald spoke up. "I doubt we can marshal such a large force in just a fortnight, but if you want to be certain that Eastgreen won't rise  _against_  us, then there is someone," he said. "Master Tael was the old steward for the late Lord Linnaeus. His word would have a lot of weight in Eastport. If we sent word to him to meet us in Vardale, you could present your case and, perhaps, win his support."

"That's a possibility," said the Valkyrie slowly. "In that case, there is only one last thing for us to consider." She nodded her head, as if confirming it to herself. "And that's the question of who shall rule when the war is won."

Anna looked up suddenly. "The queen, of course," she said automatically. "Queen Elsa."

Nobody met her eyes except for the Valkyrie, who suddenly seemed quite cold. "Oh?" she said. "And how do you know she is even alive?"

"I just  _know_ , all right?" said Anna, exasperated. "We discussed this. Ask Martin, he'll –"

"I am well aware," said the Valkyrie coolly, "of what my second-in-command has to say about all this. My question is to do with who will rule if the queen can't, and until the queen can."

"Lady Corel, this is a shut case," growled Reginald. "We know Ser Anna is the princess."

"We  _know_  precisely  _nothing,_ " spat the Valkyrie. "Now, I have agreed to review the evidence, but I reserve the right to make a decision for myself when I am ready to do so. As far as I am concerned, that right extends to every lord and lady in the kingdom. And it's for this reason that I am calling a moot."

"A moot?" echoed Reginald, and he jumped out of his chair. "Be reasonable! There hasn't been a moot in hundreds of years! It's highly irregular –"

"These are highly irregular times, my  _lord,_ " said the Valkyrie acidly. "If the queen is still alive, then, by rights, the rule is hers. But if not, well…" Her eyes flashed, and she stared at Anna again. "I know my wife and Ser Martin both trust you, but I am not so trusting as they."

Anna stared right back at her, stomach filled with fire. "I saved your life," she said evenly, barely restraining herself.

"That's true," admitted the Valkyrie, after a hesitant pause. "But you also killed my mother."

Anna gritted her teeth. "What do you want?"

"A moot," said the Valkyrie, and she gave a bitter smile. "That's all."

* * *

It was growing dusky. A good time, if any was, for a meeting to decide the destiny of a kingdom.

Anna entered the grand pavilion where the moot was, apparently, being held; and even as she arrived, a goodly number of people were milling about outside and seeing to the effects of the lords in evidence. There were a lot more than Anna had anticipated: at least four dozen, judging from their retainers outside. They had long, plaited beards or else finely braided hair, and all alike were dressed in outfits of war.

It was, truly, an impressive gathering; however, beneath the trappings of their conceit, Anna saw the slight slouch of posture, and the shadows beneath their eye. Some of them had sickly-looking horses, and others of them looked withered beyond their years. And all of them looked cold and tired.

Inside the pavilion, a handsome fire was dancing out of a fire pit in the exact center, surrounded on all sides by rows of benches and over-turned logs. These were already slightly occupied, and at the far side of the pavilion, Anna recognized the Valkyrie and her men, seated on grand-looking chairs, waiting for the men to settle themselves.

Anna's eyes met the Valkyrie's exactly as she entered. The strangest flicker, a predatory sort of amused gleam, glinted in her eyes. Anna lifted her chin and strode in between the benches to stand off to the side, arms folded. Anna was unsurprised to see the Valkyrie seated alongside Martin and Ser Cedar, but was not expecting to see Kristoff and Maple as well.  _Three-fourths of the Four Regions, right there,_  thought Anna.

More of the lords and ladies filed into the pavilion. In no time, the tent was filled, every bench lined with hunched nobles of all size and stature. Anna scanned the crowd: she found Rolf Thomsson, seated across the fire from her, with his associate Gar at his side. They both looked impatient, but eager.

To her great astonishment, she also saw Adam, from the Beast's Keep, seated blithely in the back row, his hardy frame hunched low. Seated next to him was one of his loyal warriors, a tall, muscled woman, though Anna could not quite remember her name – was it Jeanine? Though she looked ill at-ease, she still did not look half so uncomfortable as Adam did: Adam was constantly looking about himself with shifty eyes. For one brief moment, his eyes met Anna's – and at once, he seemed to relax slightly.

One particularly impressive noble, though he wore no jewelry, was a balding man in long, green traveling robes, flanked by two guards wearing green surcoats with red roses on them. It was the insignia of House Linnaeus, and Anna immediately took him for Master Tael. Though he looked quite old, and walked with the aid of a stick, he held his head up proudly.

A thick silence fell over the gathering when the pavilion flaps opened next, and in strode Reginald Morning. He was a changed man from when Anna fished him out of Brendan's prison: he seemed heartier and healthier, now, his hair finely cared-for, his beard lush but not tangled. He wore a thick set of chainmail underneath a new black surcoat, on front of which the silver sunburst of House Morning was emblazoned. He walked in, and behind him came Ser Harris, slightly smaller of frame but clearly of kin with the mountainous man in front of him. After the two of them came the three sons of Hugoss. Almost as one, they entered the circle of benches and seated themselves foremost before the fire pit, on the opposite side of the Valkyrie, whom they raised their chins at.

When they had seated themselves, and the pavilion was truly full, the Valkyrie stood out of her chair, drawing herself up to her full height, and went to stand before the fire pit. The effect was impressive: her long, black hair seemed darker and fuller by the light of the roaring flames, and she was clad in her full plate armor which had, at this point, become almost emblematic of her. She looked around at the gathered nobles, squared her shoulders, and then began to speak.

"Lords and ladies of Arendelle, you know why we are here." She spoke loudly and clearly, and the entire pavilion seemed to shake in resonance with her strong, stentorian tones. "We are here because Arendelle is in the midst of crisis.

"You may ask yourself, as you sit there, 'Which crisis?' Do I refer to the long and harsh winter under which we all suffer, as our lands, our forests, and our people wither away and die? Do I refer to the saber-rattling Weseltonians, who eye our lands greedily and hungrily, hungry for revenge for their dead duke? Do I even refer to the darkness that seems ever-growing with each passing day, the demons that flit in shadows in the edge of night? And, to that, my answer is: yes. Yes, all of these things, and more.

"For these are not isolated occurrences, oh no. Our misfortune is far too great and far too calculated for that. All of this is the doing of one man. One man who lied, cheated, and manipulated his way into a position of power. One man who has violated our rights and freedoms with prodigious inclemency. One man who has stolen our queen, hidden her away, and seen fit to call himself the Lord Regent for all that. I refer to none other than Lord Hans."

The pavilion erupted into a frenzy of whispers, as lords and ladies started leaning into one another, eyes variously wide and narrow. Some looked surprised, others offended, but still more nodded their heads in grim affirmation.

"I have fought Lord Hans for the better part of eighteen months now," the Valkyrie went on, "and although I have never seen him as anything other than my enemy, I have little reason to doubt you all have better cause to hate him than I: living, as you do, all the nearer, and all the more in fear for your lives. I know not the kinds of things you'd have heard from him, or by the account of those who claim to speak for him, but I can guess. I can guess that he has promised an end to this winter, and still no end is in sight. I can guess he has expressed, with grief, that he can deliver no aid, though he never shirks on collecting tax. I can guess that he has been asking for levies with which to hunt me down, while lifting not even a finger to protect you from bandits, brigands, and outlaws. I can guess he has not tolerated the slightest dissent. I know not what these things mean to you, but to me, they mean a tyrant – one which I say we  _need not abide!"_

At this, cheers and cries of "Hear, hear!" went up around the pavilion, and some even stood and clapped. Clearly audible amidst the cheers was the voice of one man, who said, "Let's go kill the dastard now!"

Though a surge of affirmative noises accompanied this cheer, the Valkyrie smiled thinly and waved him down. "As much as I sympathize with the notion," the Valkyrie said wryly, "there is another matter that needs to be settled, first, and that is why I have called you all here today. For if we were to march on Crystalwater and end Hans's reign only to find ourselves without a queen…" Her eyes flashed dangerously, "…we will have traded one form of chaos for another."

* * *

An hour after the lunch, the Valkyrie's host was ready to move. The wagons were packed, the horses fed and watered, and the way was clear: "To Crystalwater!" went the cry. "Down with the usurper!"

Their strength was some five hundred men and women in total, with three hundred of the Valkyrie's knights, a few dozen of Kristoff's men, and squires and attendants. It was a meager number, to be sure, but as most of them were knights and soldiers, they had nothing to fear from bandits and the like. Only an army could threaten them, but with Lord Brendan done and dealt with, this section of country was all but open to them. For a force that had grown used to forced marches in the dead of night, to say nothing of trudging through snow in never-ending flurries, the privilege of using the main roads was spectacular.

And so the host was in high spirits as they left the town, cheered on their way by the townspeople of Burrowstown, who had come out to bid the Valkyrie, and their new Lord Mayor, good-bye. Many of them were more than passing fond of Kristoff, and were not at all shy about letting him know. They threw bouquets at him, and whistled and cheered his name. One young woman in a yellow dress even ran out into the street as they passed to give Sven a carrot.

"Your people really seem to like you," observed the Valkyrie, as the woman retreated back into the crowd.

Kristoff mumbled some affirmation, which prompted Martin to take up the slack. "Kristoff was a trader under Lord Brendan's regime. No doubt, he helped the people get a great many things they needed."

"I traded  _ice,"_  said Kristoff pointedly. "Not a whole lot of demand for ice after… you know…" He shrugged.

"Well," Martin said airily, "you're doing  _something_  right."

"Who are you leaving behind to govern in your absence?" asked Ser Cedar pointedly.

Kristoff gave another sheepish shrug. "I, uh, I just gathered together some of the older townsfolk and left it up to them. You know, rule by committee."

A half-laugh, half-groan floated around the company. "Rule by committee!" chortled Ser Cedar. "A wonder they're cheering at you and not cursing you!" And they laughed again, and kept on their way.

But whereas everyone else seemed bright and even cheerful, Anna felt nothing of the sort. Away from everyone else, she sat alone, hunched over in Epona's saddle, brooding on the Valkyrie's words. The  _moot._  The more she thought about it, the worse it sounded. It wasn't that Anna was worried for her own sake: The thought that she would rule if Elsa… no, it was too awful to even think about. No, it was  _Elsa's_  sake Anna was worried for. Briefly, an image floated into Anna's mind of a clearing full of lords, listening closely as the Valkyrie explained how the old queen was dead, and so a new queen was needed… and, why, nobody could fill the role better than – and here, she gave a modest, sly chuckle – herself! And if Queen Elsa should turn out to be alive after all, well… the moot has spoken.

A wave of sudden hatred filled Anna, so starkly and so completely that she gripped Epona's reins tightly to keep herself from shaking to pieces.  _Over my dead body._  Her entire body was alight with fire, and she felt dimly aware of a buzzing sensation in the tips of her fingers.  _Call me what they will,_  she thought savagely, _anyone who tries to unseat my queen will have a new name to call me: the_ butcher.

"Anna."

Anna jumped, startled to see Martin suddenly riding beside her. She whirled around to meet his face, and for a split instant, she imagined him grinning wickedly, mouthing the words "All hail the Valkyrie." But quickly, the image went away; and as she looked at him here, she realized that he did not really look evil or duplicitous at all. He rather looked concerned and mild, and next moment, Anna's rage subsided, to be replaced by a dull, empty feeling.

"Oh, Martin," she said. "Sorry, I – you caught me thinking."

He smiled. "Is that what you call it? You looked more troubled than ponderous."

"No, I… I was only thinking about the moot."

Martin gave a sympathetic nod. "I thought that was it," he sighed. "The idea came to her last night, over dinner. What bothers you about it?"

Anna felt her lip curl. How to broach the subject with Martin? Anna didn't want to accuse the Valkyrie outright of trying to steal the throne – in fact, now that notion seemed a little absurd, compared to even a few moments earlier – but there was still the question of  _why?_

"I just don't understand why have a moot at all," said Anna at last. "Elsa  _is_  still alive, she's just in captivity. She's still the queen. What reason could the Valkyrie possibly have to call a moot?"

Martin did not respond. Anna tried to meet his eyes, but he was looking away, and, inexplicably, Anna felt the tiny hairs on her neck stand up.

"Martin?" she tried, putting a little impetus into her voice. "You…  _did_  tell the Valkyrie that the queen is still alive, didn't you?"

He did not respond right away. "Yes," he said finally, his voice distant. "And no. I told her exactly what you told me, and I told her that you never had any cause to lie to me."

It felt like the floor had dropped out from under her. "Don't you believe me?" she asked quietly.

"No, it's not that!" said Martin immediately, and now he did meet her gaze, an earnest look on his face. "It's just… most people in this country have been chafing more under this storm than under Lord Hans's tyranny, and that includes the lords. The Valkyrie has always been against Lord Hans, and you better believe Lord Reginald and the Hugosses as well – but the rest only care where the next harvest comes from. To them, what happens in Crystalwater may as well make no difference."

"But the storm isn't Elsa's fault," said Anna, a little more heatedly than perhaps she intended. "It's Lord Hans. I told you, he's captured her –"

"I believe you!" said Martin defensively, and he held up a hand. "I'm only saying… look, they all grew up hearing the story of the Ice Queen. For the past year, they've been living it. Some of them even spread rumors that, you know, the Ice Queen has 'returned.' It's sheer nonsense, of course, and I think they all know it – but on a certain level, they believe it anyway. But if they knew there was even an inkling of truth in that notion after all… well, the details wouldn't matter anymore. The legend would be real, and they all know how the legend ended."

As Martin spoke, the fear from earlier crept up again, only now it was greater and more terrible than before. Awful images of legions of the angry and the hungry filled her mind, and they formed rank after rank of decrepit, starving old wights, skin and bones, all chattering numbly: "Death to the Ice Queen, death to the Ice Queen…!"

Suddenly, a flame burst in her center, and something deep within her roared,  _LET THEM COME! LET THEM STORM THE NORTH MOUNTAIN AND TRY TO KILL MY QUEEN! I WILL DRENCH THE SNOW WITH THEIR BLOOD, I WILL –_

With a gasp, Anna shook her head violently and forced the thoughts away.  _No,_  she thought desperately, that was not her, those were not  _her_  thoughts…

But they were. Anna  _knew_  they were. Anna knew what she was, after all, and Anna knew a violent end awaited anyone who would try to hurt Elsa, just as it was right now in store for Hans.  _A good Lord Protector…_ She remembered the twisted smile on his evil little face, and for a moment her gut rose to a broil yet again.

But then another thought came into her mind, and suddenly she found herself keenly aware of the sword on her back, as if it was as integral to her as another arm. She felt it, truly  _felt_  it, and without thinking, her hand reached over her shoulder to fondle the hilt, as if to confirm that it was really, truly there.

Martin was staring at her. She lowered her hand, and stared back. "Martin," she said quietly, "do you know what happened after the Legendary Hero killed the Ice Queen?"

"Well, nobody  _quite_  knows, do they?" answered Martin with a slight shrug. "That's part of the mystery."

"I do," said Anna. "It was her brother. Her  _brother_  ascended the throne. The Royal Family – that is, Elsa and I – we are descended from her killer. And I have the weapon that did the deed."

Martin's eyebrows rose so high they disappeared into his brown, shaggy hair. "Anna, you don't mean to say…?"

"No," said Anna sharply, realizing at once what Martin was thinking of. "No, Martin, I would never. I swore an oath. I only meant that if people want a champion to end the winter… who better than the Legendary Hero's descendant, the long-lost princess of Arendelle, wielding the sword of Wintersbane? "

"Long-lost princess…?" Martin repeated, blinking. He scratched his chin. "That would do, but…" He frowned. "My Lady does not believe you are really a princess."

"But  _you_  do," said Anna, "don't you?"

Martin hesitated. " _I_  do," he said slowly, "but if I may be frank, Ser, that's not worth all that much by itself."

* * *

"It has been more than three hundred years since the last time a moot was called," declared the Valkyrie, and now she had begun pacing around the fire pit, "when, for the last time, the people of this country decided for themselves who would rule over them. They made official the Ice Queen's conquests, and ever since then, we have been ruled by her descendants. For three hundred years, the line continued, unbroken, and the word 'moot' became all but lost to memory.

"In those days, men and women became kings and queens not by virtue of royalty, but by the virtue of their strength. We Northlanders are proud, hardy people, stronger than the people of Svithron, more cultivated than the people of Finnboll, and more faithful than the people of the Southern Isles. But it is this pride that doomed us, also, doomed us to be nothing more than a dozen petty fiefdoms, squabbling over rocks and snow. So divided, and so petty, we would never unite in our common interest; even when the duchies of Svithron had risen from the ashes of the Old Empire like a phoenix; even when the warlord Cnut had gathered a fleet of five hundred ships of Vikings. It was only a matter of time until we were laid low and reduced to nothing more than colonies, and all because we were too prideful and stupid to band together.

"This was the fate the Arendelles saved us from. By defeating us, and forcing us to kneel, the Arendelles made certain that  _all_  of us would become heir to a better future for ourselves – heir to a kingdom and, I daresay, a  _nation_ , of which we could all be proud. For three hundred years, the nations of Europa called us the glacier of the north. Cnut's fleets shattered against us. The Svithron duchies could prey on us no more. They had a new word to describe us Northlanders:  _Arendellit_ , meaning one of Arendelle.

"I tell you this not only to reaffirm the common bonds that join us, both as Northlanders and as people, but because it is crucial for you all to understand the true meaning of what I am about to say. We have, at hand, a crisis of the succession.

"For the first time since the founding of Arendelle, it is unclear whether, when the dust settles, there will be one of the Royal Family to resume the throne. And if we deposed Lord Hans only to find ourselves without that holy namesake of our nation, we would be opening a new page in our kingdom's history – perhaps upon its final chapter.

"If you, like me, find this troubling, then you know why I have called this moot. Arendelle must have its queen, and just as the Ice Queen's rule was blessed by a moot, so, too, can the next ruler's. We must choose carefully, but mayhap we can choose well." She stopped and scanned the crowd, eyes hard. "Well? Who among you will lead us?

She finished speaking, and folded her arms behind her back, watching impassively as the moot slowly began to stir. Voices rose into a din, and Anna watched as the lords and ladies turned to one another to speak in frantic tones. This had gone on for the better part of a minute, with no one standing up to talk. Lord Reginald, who was not only imposing for his size, but also for the undeniable importance of his station, spoke to nobody. He merely sat with his arms crossed and jaw outthrust, gazing into the fire.

Finally, Anna unfolded her arms, took in a deep breath, and declared: "Me."

Everyone turned to look at her. Anna strode purposefully to the center of the pavilion, weaving between the rows of seats, filled by gawking lords and ladies, all of whom had fallen silent to hear her speak.

As Anna reached the fire pit, the Valkyrie looked down at her, her face utterly expressionless. "And who are you?" she asked in a toneless voice.

Anna looked up and, for a moment, was struck by how very tall the Valkyrie was. It gave Anna a sense of smallness, one she had felt, without fully realizing it, so many times before, in the face of much larger things. But, as in all those times, Anna felt no fear. She knew she was strong, and although the Valkyrie was taller, she could not look down on her.

"I am Ser Anna," said Anna, "the Knight of Crystalwater, the Lady Protector, and the younger sister of Queen Elsa."

* * *

Night fell black on the road to Vardale. The host struck up torches and carried on through the thick darkness, the way now warded by halos of flickering light. Flames bobbed up and down along the road, creating the impression of a long daisy chain of hovering wisps. They extended out into the darkness, far beyond Anna's range of vision, and she stared at the blurry, distant lights, deep in thought.

Earlier that day, they had passed through a village. It had been completely deserted: a wasteland, all the little thatched-roof cottages, cabins, and longhouses covered in snow, with not a soul to be seen. As they passed through it, Anna stared at the ominously empty buildings, and she felt the feeling of desolation oppressively strong around her.

"They get snowed out," explained Martin. "The storm." He had given Anna an earnest, quiet look, before he drove on ahead to discuss with the Valkyrie.

They had stopped in the town for a short time while the Valkyrie's men picked through the pieces for useful scrap or salvage. There was little to find, and still less that was usable, and soon enough they were on the road again, the town far behind them.

It was hilly, wooded country that they traveled through now, the packed, dirt road surrounded on all sides by thickets of young pine trees. Although it did not snow on them, the ground was carpeted in the stuff, and Epona trudged through it with a monotonous relentlessness.

Just as Anna was staring at the ground, thinking about the snow, she heard a noise and a shout come from further down the line. "Ho! Who goes there?"

Anna looked up. A couple horsemen had detached from the column and were galloping out into the snow, headed for the tree-line, shouting and pointing their fingers. There were more shouts, and arguing.

Anna looked at the dark trees, hoping to catch any glimpse of what had prompted the movement, but she saw nothing. The horsemen eventually returned the column, called back by a bellowing lieutenant. Somewhat reluctantly, Anna spurred Epona forward, and strained to listen for any hint of what had happened.

"You numbskulls! Where do you think you're going?" shouted the lieutenant, as the horsemen returned.

"We thought we saw something moving about out there," one of them explained, and he looked a little embarrassed to be saying it.

"Something moving? Like what?"

"We don't know like what. That's why we went to go look. But when we got close, it just vanished."

"Well, what did it look like?"

The explainer's face screwed up slightly. "Uh, well, it sort of looked like… a little man, all dressed in white. And… and he was waving his arms at us… threateningly."

"Threateningly?"

"Yeah, you know. All menacing-like."

"A little man in white?"

"Yes."

The lieutenant scowled. "Enough of this balderdash. Don't you go gallivanting about on your little cockamamie games again. D'ye hear?"

As the lieutenant rode away, the men exchanged troubled glances, and fell back into line without another word.

Soon after that, the call went down the line to strike up camp. The reason given was that it was too cold to continue marching, and that they needed to stow in until sunrise, though Anna suspected that unease due to the supposed "little men in white" had something to do with it. Tents went up along the road, and all the men went about setting small fires for warmth. Anna, for her part, unfolded a warm bedroll of wool and flax and crawled within. Even though the bedroll was a little pointless – Anna did not seem to feel the stinging cold at all – she curled up in it all the same, and quickly went to sleep.

That night, she had the same dream she had the night before. She was climbing an endless staircase, spiraling forever up and up, and as she climbed it, a faint voice grew ever so slightly louder and louder. "Anna!" it called. "Anna!" She climbed faster, wanting to reach the voice. It was at the top, she knew it, she only had to keep climbing.  _Someone is looking for me,_  she thought.  _Someone needs me._

The next few days passed much the same, the days filled with marching and the nights with sleeping. But whereas the scenery changed little, them still being in the midst of a snowy forest, the attitude of the host had started to take a definite turn for the sour. Ever since the night when a few men reported seeing white shapes moving around out in the trees, with each successive night those reports only grew in number. At length, it seemed about half the men in the Valkyrie's army had seen something or other unexplained, and ghost stories caught on like wildfire.

This prompted Anna to stay up the nights on the look-out, peeling her eyes for any sign of something unexplained moving about the edges of their camp – but she never saw anything particularly strange. She wasn't afraid, but she was curious. She wondered what the Valkyrie thought about all these reports, and a single word came into her head:  _snowmen._

But, each night, the time came sooner or later when Anna could keep her eyes open no longer and, yawning, remiss at another night of no unusual sightings, she would curl up in her bedroll and fall asleep. And, each night, she had the dream of the endless stair again. It seemed she was getting closer or closer with each passing night, though whether that was a trick of her imagination, or a bona fide mark of progress, Anna couldn't be sure.

The next day, they encountered another abandoned town. Anna was riding alongside Martin and the rest, near the middle of the column, when it was confirmed. They passed by a broken-down watermill, sitting dejectedly on the side of a watery creek.

"This must be Kakariko," mumbled Martin.

"I recognize this place," said Kristoff, frowning. "I came here often to trade. I liked it. It is – it was a nice town."

That it was: Anna remembered Kakariko, which she had passed through on the road to the Barrowings. It had been a town much like any other: small, quaint, and very much alive. And now it was a town of ghosts.

"We found no salvage in the last few towns," said the Valkyrie with a flare in her nostrils. "We're not likely to find any here. Let's not waste…"

Her voice trailed off at the same time everyone around them had stopped. In all the towns they had passed through before, there were no dead, no bodies to be found. The towns were simply empty. Ghost villages, whose inhabitants could be neither seen nor heard, only felt.

In the center of the town was a pile of dead human bodies, at least a dozen of them. The Valkyrie's men formed a circle around the pile, and all stared at it, dumbfounded.

Martin tentatively rode up to the pile. "Sacked by bandits," he said quietly, staring down. "Rather violent ones, too, from the look of it. Look, there are more bodies over there."

Martin pointed a few yards away to another, similar pile. Anna approached to get a better look. They were bloody, and it looked like they had been dumped there without any care or respect.

"These deaths are still fresh," said the Valkyrie with a frown. She rose her voice and addressed her lieutenants. "Fan out. Scour the area. Find any hints you can as to where they went next. We need to hunt them down."

The Valkyrie's men leapt to the task without skipping a beat, and soon all was noise and commotion as they spread out through the village.

Anna moved to follow when something caught her eye in a snowdrift on the side of the road. A flash of red.

She dismounted her horse and went to it. Kneeling, she carefully extracted it from the snow. It was an old, silky, maroon-colored shawl.

"That's a royal color," remarked Ser Cedar blandly as Anna stood. "Fitting for a princess such as yourself, you reckon?"

Anna looked up at him sharply. Neither Martin nor the Valkyrie were in earshot, and she spotted the wink of defiance in his face. But she had no words for this tiny man. She held, in her hands, the last memento of someone who had gone.

Anna ran the material through her fingers as she stared at it now. Who killed her – the person who owned this shawl? She looked around. Bandits? Simple bandits put all these people to the sword, then piled them up in the town center? No, that didn't seem to fit. It was something else, something… worse.

Suddenly, a thought entered her head, quick and without warning, like a sudden gust of wind.  _They went north_. She spun around on the spot, her mind racing.  _North_. The thought came again, oddly ephemeral and fleeting, but then she knew, with utter certainty, where the bandits were.

She whirled and dashed towards Epona. "Martin!" she shouted as she mounted Epona, wheeling the horse around. "Martin!"

Martin was still on his horse, staring at the dead bodies. He lifted his head when Anna called his name.

"Martin," she said again as she rode up to him, "They went north."

"What?" He raised an eyebrow. "Who went north?"

"The bandits, the – whoever did this. They went north."

"How do you know?" interjected the Valkyrie, her eyes sharp.

Just then, a horseman galloped into view. "My lady! There are footprints going north! Several of them, fresh by the look of it! It looks like the bandits are on foot!"

The Valkyrie gave Anna a fleeting look, and then rounded around on the rest of the knights in earshot. "Form up, men! We ride north! We will bring justice to these marauders!"

The men-at-arms, squires, and support staff stayed behind with the wagons, continuing to pick through the remains of the village, while the Valkyrie led the knights to just north of the village. Snow-covered hills and a forest lay in their path, but so did freshly-laid tracks.

"They can't have gone far," observed Martin. "The tracks are still here, so they must have attacked the village when the storm let-up – when we got close."

"That's probably what made them think they could do it," said the Valkyrie. "How many?"

"Can't be more than fifty," said Martin. "We should be ready for a battle."

Into the woods they went, Anna riding by the Valkyrie's side, following the path created by the tracks. The trees grew thicker, and soon they were winding between trees as they dashed through the snow.

Soon, one of their scouts reported that there was movement ahead. Sure enough, it wasn't long before they crested a hill and found themselves at the edge of a very large clearing, in the midst of which was a large group of men – at least four dozen – dressed variably in heavy woolen rags and leathern armors, with crude and rusted-looking weapons at hand. They were trudging through the snow, continuing north, but now they turned and saw the Valkyrie's knights cross the ridge.

"Fan out!" commanded the Valkyrie. "Surround them!"

The knights swarmed over the ridge, spilling into the field and kicking up huge tracts of snow as they sped forward in two pincers, angling to surround the men in the field. The bandits had now realized what was happening, and had lifted their weapons and were drawing closer together, prepared to receive the inevitable charge.

The Valkyrie kicked her horse and sped forward, and Anna and Martin quickly followed. Behind them thundered the hooves of yet more men, and Anna realized she was at the spearhead of a charge. Briefly, absurdly, the strangest memory came to her mind, as clear as if she remembered it herself though that was, of course, ridiculous.  _"Charge,"_ Ser Tore had said, _"and do not falter…"_

But as the bandits folded together, and the charge drew closer, the Valkyrie began to slow down. The knights had now completely surrounded the bandits, who held up their weapons and regarded the knights with a savage look. As they neared, the cry of "Parlay!" between the knights and the bandits grew audible, and the Valkyrie lifted a hand and broke the charge.

They slowed to a trot just yards away from the bandit pocket, and the knights held out their swords and lances, warning the bandits not to make any attempt to break out. One of the bandits, a huge, cruel-looking man, stepped forward, and stared up at the Valkyrie with a look of pure malice. He wore a thick bearskin over his shoulders, and his heavily-muscled arms were bare against the cold. He had a long, filthy brown beard, and his face looked splotched with red paint – though whether it was, in fact, paint and not blood, Anna couldn't tell.

As Anna looked at him, a chill ran down her spine. There was something very off about this man which, aside from his threatening visage, gave her the impression that he was someone very dangerous and very evil.

The Valkyrie sauntered her horse forward as she glared down at the huge man. "So," she said, "are you the leader of this band of marauders?"

"Aye," he said, and grinned. "And we've invoked the right of parlay, so there'll be no cutting us down like dogs, d'ye hear?"

"I'll cut you down how I please if I deem you deserving of it," said the Valkyrie coldly.

"You might get yer armor scratched if you try that," said the man as he continued to grin.

The Valkyrie snorted. "Well, you have your parlay. Do you mean to offer your surrender, or merely waste my time with empty threats?"

Suddenly, the air began to grow very cold. A heavy wind rustled the tops of the trees all around the clearing, creating a queer, howling sound.

"Our surrender?" snorted the man. "Not at all. I mean to offer you a deal. Single combat. Myself, and your best man."

The Valkyrie made an incredulous sound. "We have you outnumbered six times. We're armored and ahorse and you, well… Why would I agree to single combat?"

"Because then you might have a chance," said the man. "I swear on my honor –"

The Valkyrie laughed loudly and coldly. "Your  _honor?_ Please."

"I swear on whatever you want, then. If you can best me in single combat, we'll offer ourselves up as your prisoners. If I win, we go free. Otherwise, you risk it all in battle."

"We risk it all either way."

"You risk a lot less in single combat. What's the matter? Don't you think you can take me?"

The Valkyrie narrowed her eyes. "Very well. I'll fight you. And then when it turns out you're no better than your word, my men will cut you down. Like dogs."

He bowed precariously low. "As you say."

But as the Valkyrie moved to dismount, Anna felt a deep, foreboding feeling take root in her stomach. "My lady," she said urgently, trotting over to her. "Let me fight him."

The Valkyrie looked offended. "I can take him with both eyes shut and one hand cut off," she said frankly.

"It's not that," said Anna. "I just don't trust him. Something's wrong, I don't think he's…"

"Trust?" The Valkyrie gave an amused snort. "I don't trust him either. Be ready to intercede when I cut him down and his men break their word. Do you hear that, Martin?"

"Of course, my lady," said Martin.

"Inform the lieutenants." With that, the Valkyrie dismounted her horse and Martin took it away. She leveled her glaive out in front of her and barked at all the onlookers. "Back away. This is between me and him."

Dutifully, the knights backed off, and the bandits did as well, though, Anna noted, with a mark less apprehension than the knights. The bandit leader stepped forward, the end of his huge steel axe dragging in the snow behind him. He was still grinning.

He and the Valkyrie stood ten yards apart, and he bowed low, almost comically so. The Valkyrie did not return the gesture. And then, without warning, he leapt, his steel axe raised, and slashed.

The Valkyrie deftly dodged the attack, dancing backwards and bouncing the steel axe back with the point of her glaive. She swung it around with incredible swiftness, poised to slice the man right in the stomach. Indeed, the point drew blood, and a deep, red gash appeared in his stomach.

But whether it seemed to hurt him was not apparent. He only grinned wider and gave another attack, not slower but, in fact, faster than the last. And it was then Anna realized, horribly, that the man was not bleeding at all: the wound was bloody, but no blood issued forth, like it was… frozen.

The Valkyrie, also, seemed to have noticed something was wrong as she frowned slightly. She dodged the next attack, barely, and counter-attacked again, and this time she buried the tip of her glaive in the man's chest, leaving a deep, nasty wound. It might have been fatal, and in any case it should have been critical – but the man kept on as before, swinging his axe again and catching the Valkyrie off-guard.

She stumbled backwards, but regained her grip, managing to free the glaive from its position lodged in the man's chest – and now Anna could see the beads of sweat forming on her forehead. The man attacked again and, as before, she dodged and struck back, cutting a gash in the man's arm. Still, he seemed not to feel it, and in fact, he laughed.

"What is this?" exclaimed the Valkyrie, horrorstruck, as the man continued to laugh maniacally.

"A gift from a friend," he chortled, and jumped forward with wicked speed. The Valkyrie lifted her glaive to block, and the axe edge lodged in the pole with a cracking, splintering noise. The glaive was broken.

It looked like the Valkyrie's world had fallen apart. Shaking, her eyes wide, she jumped back several steps, relinquishing her glaive as she did. "I yield!" she cried. "I yield!"

But the man did not stop. He pulled the axe free of the glaive and tossed the splintered remains to the snow, then he hefted his axe again and moved forward. "To the death," he said gleefully. "Then, the rest of your men are free to go."

Anna jumped from Epona's back, hitting the snow with a soft  _thump._  She drew Wintersbane free and dashed forward, cutting the man off from the now-disarmed Valkyrie. All the surrounding knights were watching with some consternation, unsure of what was happening.

"It goes against the law to interfere in another's duel," growled the bandit as he stared down at Anna.

"Since when do you care about the law?" she growled back. "Lord Hans."

The bandit's smile vanished in an instant. "I am not Lord Hans."

"Oh, no," agreed Anna. "No, you're not. You just serve him, don't you? One of his pets, running amok in the field, sowing chaos and reaping violence. So? What did he give you?"

The bandit dared to smile again. "Immortality."

Anna smiled, too. "And all it cost was your freedom."

The bandit frowned again, and now he was twitching, his head making odd, jerking movements from side to side. "Freedom?" he said, and Anna noticed his voice suddenly sounded very strange, like she was hearing it from the end of a very long hallway. "You… talk to me… about freedom…? You… are not… free…"

Anna narrowed her eyes. "Maybe," she said. "But that's my choice."

"And this," his head jerked, "is mine."

Next moment, a lot of things happened simultaneously. The horses surrounding the bandits all suddenly reared up on their hind legs in horror, and shouts of panic echoed across the clearing, as, without warning, huge gusts of wind tore through the clearing. Tiny flurries of snow were rising all around each of the bandits, rising up in white cyclones that partially obscured them from view. And then, they appeared to change. Ensconced in the cyclones, Anna noticed that their skin was turning very pale, turning a stark, ashen white, and their eyes were receding into their heads. They were growing taller as well, and their clothes seemed to melt away as their bodies took on the quality of frosty snow. Long, jagged icicles shot out of the fingers on their lumpy hands, and spines of ice grew out of their backs at the same time. Their weapons had also changed: the bandit leader's steel axe now appeared to be covered in black ice, little jags running off the edges of it at all corners.

It was then that Anna realized what had happened. They had transformed into snowmen, huge, misshapen snowmen with hollow, inset eyes; and next she knew, a huge snowman with long, jagged claws and an axe made of black ice stood before her. It made a throaty, punctuating noise that sounded like a monstrous laugh.

The wind from before picked up with incredible strength, and now howled through the clearing with deafening loudness. The sky overhead moiled with thick, gray clouds.

"Behold the power of Lord Hans!" roared the monster. "Behold what His magic hath wrought! We fear naught from the storm! We shall be strong, and we shall inherit the earth that He has shaped for us!"

In a swift motion, the monster lifted his axe, and brought it crashing down towards Anna's head. Anna jumped to the side, rolling through the snow, and she heard the axe crush into the snow where she had just been.

The monster lifted his axe again, roaring savagely. But this time, when he swung his axe down at Anna's head, she was prepared. Wintersbane met the edge of the axe – and it shattered instantly.

The monster stumbled backwards. It made a panicky, warbled noise of distress, and its hollow eyes glowed slightly. "Wha~at?" it gurgled.

Anna felt Wintersbane's hilt grow warm. She lifted her sword again and jumped forward in a leaping slash aimed right at the monster's center.

It parted the snow easily, without any resistance at all. The monster stumbled again, a deep gash cut out of its body. "But how?" it screeched, and Anna jumped again, this time as high as she could, and brought the sword down hard on the monster's head.

It split right in two, and Anna hit the ground softly, the two halves of the monster falling harmlessly beside her.

There was no time to celebrate, however. Whereas before, the rest of the monsters had parted to roar at and intimidate the surrounding knights, sending some of them running, now they were all focused on Anna. Deep within their hollow eyes, pale blue lights gleamed insidiously. They all lurched towards Anna, claws and weapons outstretched, and she stood up, sword held ready to receive them.

"Support her, you fools!" screamed a voice from behind her, and the air became alive with the sound of hooves pounding snow.

The first snowman that reached her was instantly put down. She spun ferociously, savagely cutting the whole thing nearly in two – but that was enough to take it out. The next two went much the same way. Anna's mind was entirely on the battle, and she swung her blade left and right, repelling the monsters with incredible ease.

"Swing 'round!" called a voice, just barely swallowed by the howling wind. "Flank 'em!"

Moments later, the snowmen were hit, hard, in the side by a charge of knights, swords cutting through them. The Valkyrie's men had regrouped and were now attacking the snowmen, and although Anna noted they were not having as simple a time of it as her, they were nevertheless able to punch through.  _Swish, swish,_  and Anna felled two more snowmen.

It was a short battle after that. The sounds of steel whistling through the air filled the night until, at last, Anna put her sword through the last snowman, and he hit the ground with an awful thump, the light in his hollow eyes going out as his head rolled across the snow. They all stood in the wreckage of the snowmen army in perfect silence.

Anna felt a body move up next to her. She looked: It was Epona, and she snorted noncommittally. Anna pet her nose.

"The battle is won!" somebody cried; and shortly, a cheer of "Huzzah!" followed.

But the cheer was quickly stifled when a loud noise filled the clearing. It sounded like bronze scraping against steel, a piercing, metallic noise with a tinny, echoing quality to it. Some of the knights covered their ears, and Anna held up her sword, her eyes darting around the clearing for the source of the noise.

It was the last snowman head. The lights had come on in its eyes again, only now they were no longer blue, but orange and red. Slowly, the head rose into the air, higher and higher, until it was ten feet up at least, and then it began to morph into a different shape.

Anna gripped Wintersbane's hilt so hard it hurt. It was Hans. It had morphed into Hans's face. It was all snow, but there was no mistaking the sideburns, nor the sardonic little smile it flashed down at her.

"Well, well, well," it boomed across the clearing. "Looks like the little Lady Protector didn't freeze to death after all. Oh, and I see you've brought friends." It scanned the rest of the knights as it said this, and its smile broadened. "How lovely. Will I have to hunt you traitors down, or will you do me the convenience of coming to me?"

"We're coming, all right," said Anna savagely. "We're coming to kill you."

"Mmhmm. Well, that's great. But you know, I have more men where this lot came from. They are surprisingly easy to make. You just take a desperate, starving, but otherwise quite loyal citizen of Arendelle, preferably one unburdened by intellect, add a touch of stolen snow magic, and a dash of my own special ingredient, and, simple as that, you have a champion. Sure, you beat this lot. I applaud your ability to win at six-to-one odds. But can you beat a thousand? Or five thousand? Or twenty thousand? Twenty thousand champions who need not eat, drink, or sleep, who don't fear death or cold? Well? Can you?"

Before Anna could reply – and, honestly, she didn't know what she could say – another voice picked up in the clearing. The wind from before had softened into a consummate whisper, barely audible except in the corners of one's hearing, but now it seemed to speak, actually  _speak,_  quiet though clearly audible across the entire clearing, calm and crystal-clear.

Anna's heart jumped. It was  _Elsa's voice._

"You may have your champions, Hans," said Elsa's voice. "But I have mine, and she is worth a million of yours."

The smile on Hans's face vanished instantly. "What the…? Who are you? Show yourself!"

"You know who I am, Hans," said Elsa's voice again, still softer. "Your days are numbered."

And just like that, the wind died down, and the whisper was gone. The silence was deafening.

Hans's face stared blankly for several long moments, and then its eyes spun down to look at Anna, briefly, before it imploded in a puff of snow and fell to the ground with a harmless  _plop._

Nobody said a word. Anna heard footsteps from behind. She lowered her sword and turned around to see the Valkyrie walking towards her, her eyes wide, her mouth ever so slightly open, and her lips aquiver.

"Anna," she said, "I…"

She threw herself to both knees before Anna, each of her hands buried in the snow. "I was so wrong to doubt you. Please, forgive me."

* * *

Anna was dreaming again. She knew this because she was still in the spiral stairway, and still making no apparent progress. She ran, without tiring, up and up the stairs, chasing the call of "Anna! Anna!"

But then, without any warning, the call began to grow very loud very quickly. Suddenly, she found herself on the top landing, in a room that was completely white. She looked behind her, and the stairs had gone.

In the middle of the room was a silvery-blue crystal, with several cracks in its surface. Anna walked over to it, and saw Elsa inside, pacing in circles around the center of the crystal.

"Sad, isn't it?"

Startled, Anna whirled around to find the speaker – and was shocked to see Elsa, again, standing there next to her, cradling a wooden cup of wine in her hands.

"Mulled wine," said the Elsa with the cup in her hands, and she held it out. "Want some?"

Dumbly, Anna shook her head.

"I don't mind the cold, but I also don't mind warmth," she went on, and took a sip of the cup. "It takes a little of both at times, I find."

Anna blinked at her, still dumbstruck. "Elsa?" she managed at last.

She gave a sad smile. "Sort of," she replied. "I am but one aspect of her personality. The aspect that sits outside of the crystal and laments what a sorry state I've gotten myself into."

Anna wasn't sure why this upset her to hear, but at once she felt like she should say something comforting. "It's… it isn't all your fault."

"Nothing is ever  _all_  someone's fault," agreed Elsa. "But it is partially. Just as no one man can build a wall, but one builder can point at a brick and say: 'I put that one there.' That said, I certainly placed a  _lot_  of bricks."

"Were you the one calling my name?" asked Anna.

"Yes," Elsa said simply.

"Why?"

Elsa looked up at the crystal, a pensive frown forming on her face. "Inside the crystal, it feels so much more hopeless, so much more alone. Sometimes, I even think I deserve it. But outside, I can see so much more. I know when I need help, and I even know what it will cost. But most of all, I can see what difference it makes to other people."

Anna wasn't sure she understood, so she just gave a feeble sort of nod. Elsa smiled another sad smile.

"I'll see you soon, won't I?" she said.

Anna nodded again, and was surprised to see Elsa turn to leave. "Wait," she said.

Elsa turned back around. She lifted one eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Why didn't you tell me that…" Anna swallowed a quick-forming lump in her throat, "that we're sisters?"

Elsa sighed heavily and closed her eyes. "Because, I am a fool." And with that, she vanished, and the white room faded before the waking hour.

It was the day of the moot.

* * *

A frigid silence fell over the moot as Anna stood there, and the meaning of her words sank in.

"It's the long-lost princess!" cried a lone voice in the crowd. "Just as we were promised!"

"A mighty high claim," said the Valkyrie, as she looked at the source of the lone voice, who immediately quieted down again. "So," she said, turning back to Anna, "you would lead us as queen?"

"No," replied Anna, making sure to project her voice around the pavilion. "I am not queen. There is only one queen, and, as of now, she is captive to the enemy. But I  _am_  her sister, occluded from birth. The blood of the First King runs in my veins."

She paused briefly, gauging the audience's reaction. They were still as stone, and watching intently. "The enemy, Lord Hans, has captured my sister, and through dark magic, has precipitated an endless winter all over Arendelle. As I was her Lady Protector, and I had sworn to protect her and the kingdom from all harm, when this came to pass, I knew I had failed. But through luck and guile, I narrowly escaped Lord Hans's clutches, and traveled north in search of some means to lift this veil of darkness. At long last, I found it."

At this, she drew forth Wintersbane from its scabbard, and held it out before her. Its smooth, crystalline surface reflected the flickering light brilliantly. "This is the blade of legend, the legendary Wintersbane, that has the power to end this winter once and for all. With it, I will strike down Lord Hans, and rescue my sister. No, I will not be your queen – but I will be her regent, and I will serve the kingdom so until such a time as she is restored to glory."

All was silent when she finished. "I see," said the Valkyrie, and her eyes flickered. "Well?" She looked around at the moot. "What do we make of her words?"

At this, there were mixed murmurs as the lords and ladies of the moot stared interestedly at her. Lord Reginald stood up and declared, in a booming voice, "She speaks truth, I say! Ser Anna is as good and noble a one as any I've ever seen!"

"Hear, hear!" said the three Hugosses in unison, and some of the lords thudded their seats with their hands in agreement, creating a rhythmic  _thump-thump-thump-thump_  that filled the pavilion.

The Valkyrie inclined her head at them, after the chorus of agreement died down. "A character testimony is one thing, but proof of right is another thing entirely."

"And how do you propose to ascertain the truth of her words?" asked Lord Reginald.

Suddenly, Ser Cedar stood up. "A wager of battle!" he pronounced, his face expressionless.

Anna and the Valkyrie locked eyes, and Anna could see the little smile forming in the corner of her mouth.

"As the speaker of this moot, I would stand against your champion," said the Valkyrie.

"I can stand for myself," replied Anna.

"Very well, then!" declared the Valkyrie, and she swept herself around to address the moot at large once again. "It is decided! A wager of battle will determine the truth of Ser Anna's words, and may the gods grant strength to her arm if her cause is just. If she is victorious, then I will declare the right is hers. May all of you bear witness to this trial and see for yourself whether the cause is right."

A roar went up from the moot, and many of them rose to their feet, eager to watch the contest. Martin produced a slim longsword for the Valkyrie's use, and she gave it a few practice swings before deciding it was appropriate. Anna merely held Wintersbane, and waited.

"All right, then," said the Valkyrie, and she bowed to Anna. Anna bowed back.

No sooner had she straightened out again, than a battle-yell split the air, and the Valkyrie leapt forward, swinging her longsword in a wide arc. With speed, Anna brought Wintersbane up to intercept the blow, and, with a deafening clang, succeeded in deflecting the attack.

The Valkyrie took a step back as she brought her sword around and held it up again, in a new battle stance. Her eyes blazed fiercely, her face half-illuminated by the raging flame of the fire pit. All around her, Anna was dimly aware of raucous shouting and noise as the moot worked itself into a commotion, cheering and screaming for the fight.

The Valkyrie's face contorted into a furious grimace, and she lifted her longsword high. With another battle-yell, this one a deep-throated, ululating scream, the Valkyrie jumped up and swung the longsword down with terrible speed. Quickly, Anna lifted her sword, holding it sideways to cross the oncoming blade, and braced herself for the impact –

But it never came. Just as the Valkyrie's longsword had neared Anna's, in mere instants before they connected, a strange, cracking noise shot the air like a shriek of thunder. Next moment, the Valkyrie's sword had shattered, a wave of force rushing through the air in all directions, momentarily taking Anna's breath away. Cold, hard air slashed her face, and all around, men fell on their backs, knocked off balance by the sudden shockwave. It swept around the pavilion, quenching the flame and plunging the moot into utter darkness. Seconds later, the tent-poles had been dislodged, and the pavilion was lifted by the gust of force into the air, sailing away into the black, moonlit night.

When the dust had settled, the stars were shining down on them, the fire was dead, and the Valkyrie was kneeling before Anna, panting, a broken hilt in her hands. For an impossibly brief moment, their eyes met, and Anna saw the faintest hint of amusement – a laugh that danced on the edges of her lips and eyes; and in the next second it was gone.

"Alas!" she cried, still panting, "In all the sight of gods and men, I declare that you have bested me. Clearly, I was a fool to have doubted you: Truly, that is the blade of legend you wield, the sword of steel so cold it shatters all that cross it. And I now see I was wrong, for only someone who was born of the Ice-Blood could wield such a blade as that. You are truly the long-lost princess, Anna Arendelle, thought dead but still alive, and by rights my liege as regent until your sister is reclaimed. Forgive me!" She dropped her head in a snap. "I pledge myself to you! Long live House Arendelle!"

It didn't take long before the cry was taken up. Martin and Kristoff had got to their feet, shouting, in unison, "Long live Arendelle!" Ser Cedar, who had been looking tense until a moment before, shook himself and cried, hoarsely, "Long live Arendelle!"

"Long live Arendelle!" came the cry to her left, and she saw Reginald, the Hugosses, and Ser Harris all on their feet and shouting.

At this point, more than half the moot had cottoned on, and all were falling to their knees around her, the rest pumping their fists as they shouted, again and again: "Long live Arendelle! Long live Arendelle! LONG LIVE ARENDELLE!"

* * *

The fields around Crystalwater were dotted with hundreds of tiny fires, glowing dimly in the cool, night air. The white walls of the city looked like sheer white cliffs standing at the edge of a glacier, beyond which all was too much darkness to see. Clouds as thick and black as smoke hung densely over the city, and swirled in an endless, unceasing vortex around the very tip of the Tower of Arendelle.

Anna stood at the edge of the camp, her head craned upward to take in the immense height of the white walls. They seemed so much larger and more imposing than they had ever been before, when she had first seen them. Now that they had to knock them down, they looked unbreakable.

They had come a long way to lay this siege, and although it was the eve of the summer solstice, the weather was bitterly cold. Anna wondered if there was anyone even left in the city – or, worse, if there was anyone left whom Hans hadn't managed to turn.

She was starting to feel the cold again. From time to time, it nipped at her edges, but when she held Wintersbane, she felt all right again. But no amount of holding Wintersbane took the white streak out of her hair. It ran down her braid treacherously. Nobody commented on it – nobody knew what it meant. But Kristoff gave her looks.

Anna shook her head. There was no time to dwell on such matters. Somewhere in that city, behind those walls, her queen lie in wait, and Lord Hans stood in her way.

" _I'm coming for you, Lord Hans,"_ she thought darkly.  _"I'm coming."_

* * *

After the moot, and after the many lords had pledged themselves and their retinues to Anna's cause, a time of celebration was declared. The grand feast was held in the mayor of Vardale's grand manor, in a spectacular stone great hall with dozens of hearths lining the walls, in each one a happy fire blazing merrily. All who had gathered for the moot sat, ate, and drank together, celebrating the new fellowship that had formed. Songs were sung of glory and of victory, and many a toast was downed to the downfall of Lord Hans.

Anna did not drink much. She sipped at toasts, and swirled the wine around in the cup at other times, watching it swish around the edges. But the Valkyrie, whose appetite was nearly as great as her height, partook frequently – as did her wife, Maple, and, a few cups in, the two of them were doting on one another unabashedly. It pleased Anna to see, though it also filled her with an inexplicable sadness.

At length, the Valkyrie turned on Anna, leaned close, and said, "So, how do you think we did?"

"I think it was very convincing," said Anna. With a hand, she indicated the revelers. "I think they thought it was very convincing, too."

The Valkyrie grinned. "A little bit of pageantry can go a long way. That's something my mother used to tell me, back when she thought I'd be spending most of my Ladyship attending court and throwing galas. Of course, I expect she thought I'd be attempting to impress men for their marrying hands, not their levies!"

Anna just nodded, not trusting herself to respond to a point about the innocent woman she had executed. She took a sip of wine.

"I didn't expect so many to show up," the Valkyrie went on. "But each lord brought all of his retinue he could scrape together. For some, that's only a couple dozen – but others brought hundreds. Ser Harris managed to bring four hundred on such short notice! I daresay our strength is up to three thousand, now. Plenty to begin a siege with. We'll send out messengers for others to take up arms and join up, but, for now, I say we're looking pretty good, eh?"

The Valkyrie beamed as she motioned for a passing attendant to refill her wine goblet. Then she gave Anna a curious look, and her tone immediately changed.

"I did want to apologize again," she added softly. "I was foolish on so many levels –"

"Not at all," said Anna quickly. She did not want to have this conversation. "I understand."

"No," insisted the Valkyrie, and she grabbed one of Anna's wrists, staring her intently in the eyes. "I had been so absorbed in my bitterness towards you, I forgot what I had first set out to do. You are a soldier.  _Were_  a soldier. Now you're a princess, of course. But I looked for any excuse to ignore or discard you when I should have realized that we can help each other, after all. What would my mother say, if she saw me acting so foolishly, so short-sightedly?"

Anna forced herself to look up. "I'm sorry," she found herself saying. "I shouldn't have killed her."

The Valkyrie did not cry, but it did seem, for a moment, that she was about to. Roughly, she pulled Anna into an embrace, and they held each other while someone rose yet another toast to the death of Lord Hans.


	29. The House of Hugoss

It was still dark, as it had been yesterday morning when they first rode in. At least, Anna believed it had been the morning, but the sky was so full of swirling dark clouds that it was impossible to say. In the center of it all, so strangely tall and imposing, yet so very distant, isolated in a sea of darkness, was the Tower of Arendelle. Alone of all things, it seemed truly to belong there, in the midst of that terrible, churning maelstrom.

 _That's where I have to go,_  she thought.  _That's where she is._

A voice from behind disturbed her reverie. "Ser." It was Martin. He, alone, continued to call her Ser Anna. "We're beginning the meeting."

Anna gave a short nod. "Very well. I'm coming."

With one last look to the tower, Anna turned away, only to find that Martin was now staring at her.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"No, not at all," he said, looking away. "Follow me."

Anna did, and in silence they went to the Valkyrie's tent, where the final strategy meeting was taking place.

It was a utilitarian little tent, designed for the purpose of keeping out cold, and little else. It was a seamless patchwork of skins and furs held up by broad oak slats. The furs were so cleverly woven together, and the slats were so strong, that it seemed like a house unto itself, only belied by the hastily placed wool rug for flooring, and the simple little entry flaps through which Martin and Anna now entered.

Inside, a tough little fire was working away at a stack of tinder and firewood, the smoke rising up in little spirals to exit out a hole in the ceiling. Everyone was seated around it, their legs crossed: the Valkyrie, Lord Reginald, his brother Ser Harris, the three Hugosses, Maple, and even a few other lords and ladies Anna recognized from the moot but whose names she could not place. Farther away from the fire, in a shadowed little corner of the tent, sat a short man whose face Anna could not make out.

The Valkyrie had been staring into the fire with a look of intense concentration as Anna walked in. She looked up at Anna's entry and gave a congenial smile. She bowed her head as low as she could, and the others quickly followed.

"Your Grace."

Anna raised a hand in acknowledgement, and assumed a seat across the fire, Martin setting himself next to her.

The Valkyrie straightened back up, and her expression grew serious once more. She looked between all those gathered in the tent. "Unfortunately, it is looking unlikely we can take the wall by force," she said flatly. "Those siege weapons that we brought and can build with the materials on hand are little suited to taking down fortifications of that size. Even with battering rams, to take down the doors would require more soldiers than we can spare. So, to take the city, it would appear that we must settle in for the long siege. But this," her eyes flashed dangerously, "should be considered only as an absolute last resort."

"If a long siege is what it takes, we'll do it," said Lord Reginald with a firm nod, to murmurs of agreement from the Hugosses.

"It's certainly possible," said Thagnar, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "The city can't be resupplied from the sea with this storm ongoing."

The Valkyrie gave them a dubious look. "You don't think the storm would wear our forces down worse than theirs'?"

"Reinforcements will come in week by week," said Lord Reginald. "We can maintain sieging strength for awhile."

"They will  _trickle_  in at best," countered the Valkyrie. "And meanwhile, we have no ready access to supplies beyond what meager rations we've brought."

"So?" snorted Lord Reginald. "We can match them casualty for casualty. There can't be more than a thousand men garrisoned in there. We'll wait them out, and when they are desperate –"

"They will emerge and destroy us all," said Anna suddenly.

Everyone turned to look at her, each of them wearing an uncomfortable frown – except for the Valkyrie, who was quite calm. "What do you mean?" asked Ragnar in a distinctly uncool tone.

"The longer we wait here, the more opportunities Lord Hans has to raise armies from the ranks of the city folk," said Anna. "They'll be launching sorties at us and wearing us down far faster than the cold."

"They're just peasants, though," said Lord Reginald, though he sounded somewhat uncertain. "Even if the whole population of Crystalwater came at us, well – with no skill-at-arms, no discipline, no  _weapons_ …"

"They don't need any of that," said Anna. "They have Hans's magic."

Nobody said a word. The uncomfortable frowns deepened into very troubled looks. The Valkyrie put on a dry smile. "And that is why we cannot wait," she said. "Lord Hans has it in his power to enthrall anyone and everyone in the city to fight for him."

"Then what the hell are we doing here?" said Ragnar, a note of sudden panic overtaking his voice. "That city is huge! Tens of thousands of people – and you're telling me they can all be his soldiers in the blink of an eye?"

The Valkyrie held up a hand. "Wait. There's more to it than that." She shot Martin a sharp glance. "Ser Martin. Tell them what you know."

Martin nodded. "I had Kaepora Gaebora do a flyover of the city," he said. "We expected to hear it was crawling with his men, with more of those snowmen that we encountered on the road. In fact, we expected the worst. We believed there was no reason the entire city wouldn't have been enthralled. It turns out we were only partially right."

The Hugosses returned puzzled looks, and Lord Reginald cupped his chin in a hand. "Partially right?" he repeated. "How so?"

Martin's eyes darted over to the Valkyrie before he responded. "Kaepora says that everyone in the city is behaving very oddly. They don't interact, they don't talk, they don't eat or sleep, they hardly seem to breathe – they only… exist, shambling about with no apparent direction…" He paused. "It's almost as if… their souls have been taken from them."

"You don't think their souls  _have_  been taken from them?" proposed Ragnar in a slightly tremulous voice. "By Lord Hans?"

Martin shrugged. "We don't know for sure. Our guess is they are subject to the same thralldom as the snowmen we encountered on the road, only a less advanced state. The curious thing is, it's only the townsfolk who are like this. Not the City Watch, nor… Lord Hugoss and his men."

The three Hugosses looked at one another. "Our father is all right?" asked Ragnar tentatively.

"He is, at least, physically unharmed," said Martin. "And he seems in control of his wits. The City Watch all match the profiles of the snowmen we met on the road: Kaepora said he could feel the waves of evil pouring off them, just as he felt cold and emptiness from the city-folk. But when it comes to Hugoss Hill and the Grand Merchant's Manor, nothing seems awry at all."

Thagnar's brow furrowed into an ugly mess of ridges, and he rubbed his forehead with his fingers. "I don't understand. Why wouldn't Lord Hans turn everyone into… into snowmen? Why wouldn't he enthrall our father?"

"We can only think of two explanations to that," said Martin. "Either there are limits to his power, or…"

"…Or he's distracted," Anna finished darkly.

"At any rate," Martin went on, "that he has done neither of these things means there's a hope for us. There can't be more than a thousand watchmen, and while we couldn't hope to storm the walls even at three-to-one odds, if we could bypass the walls entirely then we'd have a winning fight on our hands."

"And that," said the Valkyrie, casting a dry smile at the three Hugosses, "is where you three come in."

A look of realization spread across Thagnar's face at once. "Oh, I see," he said. "You want to show us to our lord father and thus win an ally on the inside."

"Precisely," said the Valkyrie with relish. "We can only assume Lord Hugoss is toeing the line because he thinks the three of you are in Lord Brendan's dungeon. But if we were to take one of you to him, show him that's not true, then, with the help of his men, we can open the gates from the inside."

"Thus allowing your men to storm the city," said Thagnar. "Yes, I see, but there's only one problem: How do you propose to get us into the Grand Merchant's Manor?"

"We only need one of you," said the Valkyrie. "As for that, you are to sneak in there, and you will be escorted by Ser Puck," the Valkyrie jerked her head in the direction of the man sitting in shadows, and he leaned forward into the light. Though Anna knew it was Ser Puck, she still hardly recognized him. He still had his flaxen hair and violet eyes, but his cheery, jaunty attitude was deflated so that he often seemed a shadow of his former self. Even his green cap had seemed to lose some of its luster, and his eyes no longer glinted with the humor that was once their trademark.

Ser Puck gave a terse, acknowledging nod, and the Valkyrie continued speaking. "…and Princess Anna."

All the Hugosses turned to look at Anna. "Her?" said Ragnar, blinking dumbly. "But… is that wise?"

"It is necessary," said Anna evenly. "Ser Puck and I know of a way through the wall that only a small number can take surreptitiously. I'll escort you through the city and see you safely into the Grand Merchant's Manor. From there, we can plan further."

"Your lord father has no small quantity of men in his retinue," said the Valkyrie. "If you move quickly, my guess is that you can open the gates before the Watch has time to organize themselves, and by then, they'll be shoulders-deep in our steel." She straightened herself up, and gave the Hugosses an appraising glance. "So? Which of you will it be?"

The Hugosses looked at one another, the shadow of apprehension behind their faces. Ragnar and Thagnar exchanged a glance, but before either of them could speak…

"I will go," said Aagnar Hugoss.

Ragnar and Thagnar stared, mouths agape, at their little brother. Words had evidently failed them, and Anna met the youngest Hugoss's eyes. "Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes," he said firmly, without hesitation.

Anna nodded. "Suit up, then. The sooner begun, the sooner done, as Lord Hans would say."

She stood, and Martin and the Valkyrie quickly followed suit. "The men will be ready to assault by the time you've managed to open the gates," the Valkyrie said to Anna confidently. She smirked slightly. "Just don't keep us waiting too long."

Anna exited the tent, leaving the rest behind, and swiftly made her way towards her own tent to take care of some last-minute business. But as she walked, her boots crunching through the snow, she heard a second set of footsteps crunching the snow beside her.

"Martin," she said.

"Anna."

They had reached her tent. It was a short walk. She turned to look at him.

"So, you're ready?" he said, with an almost casual air.

"Yes."

"Good luck," he said stiffly, and then he smiled. "You know, I was just thinking that this is going to make a great story some day."

Anna stared blankly at him. "I suppose it will."

"I can already imagine you telling everyone at the queen's dinner table about the time you and Ser Puck and one of the Hugosses snuck into the city right under the Lord Regent's nose." His smiled broadened. "I'd really like to see that some day. So, you promise me you'll get out all right, okay?"

Anna stared at him. "This is war, Martin," she said, the slightest edge in her voice. "People die in war."

"But not you," he said, his voice filled with bravado. "Right?" Despite his tone, his smile seemed to crack somewhat. It had not faltered at any point, but now it had an oddly contrived look to it, like he was forcing it against every particle in his being.

And then, like fast-melting ice, the smile fell and vanished. "Right?" he tried again, though his tone was hollow – and Anna noticed the unmistakable flicker of eyes to the white-lined braid of hair that fell over her right shoulder.

Anna bit the inside of her lower lip. "Martin," she began, "what has Kristoff said to you?"

Martin shifted from foot to foot. "A few things, but – never mind that. He's wrong, right? That's just a… a style you're trying out?" His eyes darted again to the braid. "That's not… it's not…?"

Anna turned away and walked to the entrance of her tent. "Can you send Lord Kristoff to my tent, please, Martin?" she asked.

Martin hesitated. Anna looked back, and, for a few moments, she didn't know what he was about to say. But then, abruptly, he dipped his head so low she could not see his face. "At once, Your Grace." And then he was off.

Anna entered her tent. It was, like the Valkyrie's, cozy and rather warm. A low smolder of coals was burning in the middle, and the air was thick and smoky. Anna sat down next to the fire and stared at it.

A few minutes later, a rustling preceded Kristoff poking his head into the tent. Although this did not startle Anna, it did slightly surprise her, as usually people announced themselves before they barged into her tent. But from the look on Kristoff's face, he did not seem in any mood to abide by any pleasantries.

"Is Martin with you?" she asked him placidly.

Kristoff blinked. "Yeah," he replied.

"Come in, and tell him to join us."

Kristoff's face disappeared through the flap, and reappeared moments later, followed quickly by the rest of him, and Martin, stooping behind him with his face flushed red. Kristoff sat, scowling and impetuous, across from Anna, and Martin sat next to him, avoiding Anna's gaze.

Kristoff folded his legs and crossed his arms. "Well?" he said. "What is it?"

Anna gave the burning coals a long, thoughtful look before she replied. "Kristoff, do you remember the story of Hercules?"

The dumbfounded way Kristoff blinked at this question told that this was the last thing in the world he expected to hear. "Um," he said, "yeah? Strong guy knocks down a mountain, kills a hydra? That Hercules?"

"Yes," said Anna. "But specifically, do you remember the part about him being a hero?"

Kristoff nodded slowly, his eyes clouding over slightly. "Um, yeah, I think. I remember that the gods didn't call him a hero for some reason." He blinked. "We never understood why."

Anna was silent for a moment. "I think I get it, now." She looked up. "Kristoff, why did you tell Martin what you did?"

The fire jumped back into Kristoff's eyes, and he stared harshly at her. "Because, Anna, like I've said to you countless times before, just because you're throwing yourself into harms' way doesn't mean that I have to sit idly by and watch you do it. For gods' sake, can't you just let somebody else go in there?"

Anna merely shook her head. "It can't be somebody else."

"Then we should think of a better way!" exclaimed Kristoff. "I refuse to believe this is the only solution."

Anna looked back into the coals and rested her arms on her knees. She leaned forward slightly. "I wondered about Hercules for a long time," she said quietly. "I compared him to Joan of Arc.  _Everyone_  said Joan was a hero. You and I thought Hercules was a hero, but he wasn't. He spent his whole life searching for what that meant. He was strong, he fought monsters, he saved people. Isn't that what a hero does?

"But it turned out that none of those things were what being a hero is really about. Being a hero isn't about how  _much_  you give, it's about how much you  _can_  give. Hercules gave a lot…" She looked up. "But he didn't give it all."

Kristoff blinked. "So, that's it?" he said, in a low, uneven voice. "You're going through with this just to fulfill some heroic ideal?"

"No." Anna shook her head, stopping a moment to collect her thoughts. "When I first heard the story of Joan of Arc," she began at length, "I didn't understand it. I thought it was a bad end. I suppose it  _was_  a bad end, for Joan, anyway. I felt terrible for her. But then I realized that her actions allowed Lutetia to win the war. It was one life – her own life – for all of her country's freedom. And for a long time, I consoled myself in thinking that was her triumph, her victory."

She paused for a moment, her eyes flickering over to Kristoff's face. He was quiet, and so still that Anna wondered if he was holding his breath.

"But that was wrong, too," she continued quietly, looking away again. She sighed softly. "She had been sent to her death and was betrayed at the last moment. Anders mentioned something about that, once: In death, she became a symbol. She became a martyr. I couldn't help wondering if that's what she really wanted. Of course, if you asked her if she'd put her life on the line for her country, she'd tell you 'Yes' – at least, that's what the stories say. But that's a soldier's lot, isn't it? So, what made her different from any other soldier?"

Anna paused, glancing up at Kristoff again. When he apparently realized that she was waiting for him to speak, his jaw swung open and he scrambled dumbly for a response. "Um, uh…" He gave a shrug. "I don't know."

"The answer is nothing," said Anna flatly. "The fact is, they're all heroes. Even the cowards and the cravens and the traitors and the killers. They all fight the same. If they win, they get to go home. If they die, they are honored as heroes. And then the only ones we remember are the ones they write books about."

She stopped to catch a breath, and neither Kristoff nor Martin said a word, both of them staring at her with marked disquiet. "I tell you this" she went on, "so that you know being a hero is exactly what I'm  _not_  thinking about. Story-book heroes don't really exist, and I'm certainly not one of them."

Abruptly, she stood up. She snatched up her cloak and fastened it around her neck. She looked down at them. Kristoff was now staring at the coals, but Martin met her eyes.

"So, why, then?" he asked quietly.

Anna gave him a small smile, and, treacherously, deep within herself, she felt a slight pang of despair. "Because I have no choice," she answered; and summarily walked around the fire and out into the cold, dark air.

* * *

 

She rendezvoused with Ser Puck and Aagnar Hugoss at the edge of the camp, a few hundred yards from the base of the huge, white walls. The walls seemed even more monstrous and insurmountable at this close proximity, though Anna knew their height meant nothing in truth. By contrast, the camp was protected only by makeshift barricades: dredged-up snow banks prickled with logs fashioned into spears – and yet, it would not be the one of the two getting infiltrated tonight.

"Are you two ready?" she asked them, though she felt it was something of an unnecessary question. They were there, after all, and certainly looked ready. Aagnar had his leathern armor on and a thick woolen cloak over that, and a short iron sword was buckled at his hip. Ser Puck had his long, slender bow, and a quiver stuffed full of arrows, and was dressed in a long, dark green cloak. He pulled the tip of his cap down over his brow and nodded sternly.

Without another word, Ser Puck turned on his heels, beckoning the other two to follow, and together they made their way out of the light of the camp and into the gloamy, snowy fields that lay between the impressive white walls and the drab little barricades.

"It's dark," said Aagnar laconically as the blackness swallowed them.

"Can you see us?" asked Ser Puck.

"Yes."

"Then just follow. Don't mind about lights. We don't want anyone on the walls to see us without putting some effort into it."

Aagnar made an affirmative grunt, and they continued in silence. After about a minute of walking, when the walls were much closer, though they were still well in shadows, Ser Puck abruptly turned left and started walking parallel to the walls some fifty yards away. Anna and Aagnar followed, and they walked alongside the walls for several minutes more, until the distant sound of crashing waves and the mutter of running water became audible.

"We're near the fjord now," said Ser Puck, and he stopped. He swiveled his head right, and in the gloom Anna was just able to make out that his eyes were narrowed as he scanned the walls. "Ah, yes – I see it."

Without waiting to be asked what he had seen, Ser Puck turned again, this time towards the walls, and kept on moving. Anna and Aagnar quickly followed, and soon they were right up at the base of the wall.

Most curious was that, whereas on most of the wall the battlements were lit and the movements of sentries unmistakable, the wall above them was almost pitch-dark and seemed deserted.

"We're quite far away from the camp, now," said Ser Puck with a quick glance upwards. "The City Watch holds the walls, but they always cut corners, especially near the ends like here. Even under Lord Hans's thralldom, the lazy bastards can't be arsed to man the whole thing – hah! Some things truly never change."

The sound of running water was louder now, and Ser Puck walked a little farther on. "Aha!" he exclaimed abruptly. "Here it is."

Anna nodded. "This will do."

Aagnar made a displeased noise. "Sewers," he grumbled, with a tone of mild disgust.

It was a great iron grating, lodged in the base of the walls, through which some water babbled over a sluice of rocks and stones to spill into the fjord beyond. It was a rather meager spillage, and one look at the fjord told why: much of it was frozen, and the offshoot from the city probably made only a small difference there. Nevertheless, it was there, and as Anna stared into the dark confines of the space beyond the grates, she knew that this passage would take them into the city.

"Where exactly does this lead?" she asked Ser Puck.

"All over the city. Thank Ser Martin for my knowing about this more than in passing. When you made him the castellan, he started doing all kinds of research all about the fortifications of the castle, and when he was done with that, he moved on to the city's walls. I went out with Little John one day to inspect the walls, and we found this. Now, I know a path through these that will take us to an access point just near Hugoss Hill. From there, we can high-tail it to the walls of the manor, and we'll be good as gold."

"And how are you planning on sneaking into the manor?" asked Aagnar abruptly, his voice sharp.

"Same way we're getting in through here, I s'pose," said Ser Puck. He eyed Anna. "So… whenever you're ready, Your Grace."

Anna waded into the running water – it barely came up to the ankles of her boots – and walked up to the iron bars. She held up a hand.

"Bombos."

The iron bars all ruptured at once, each one crumpling with several loud, satisfying  _cracks_  that seemed to split the night air right in half. Although the job was done, and the sewers were now completely open to them – the miserable remains of the iron bars now merely blackened stumps of iron – the noise had been absurdly loud, and Anna knew that Ser Puck and Aagnar had both snapped their heads up to scan the battlements with sudden panic.

"By the gods," said Ser Puck, rubbing his ears. "Is it done?"

Anna stepped aside to give Ser Puck a clear view, and he gave an appreciative nod.

"All right, well, no time to dawdle, then," he said, and with that, he forged forward into the ankle-high water, and Anna and Aagnar followed.

If it had been dark outside in the moonless fields, it was truly pitch black inside the sewers. An unpleasant smell of rot and mildew permeated everything, and the air was cool and wet in only the way that subterranean air can be. They hadn't gone far before Anna couldn't even see the hand in front of her face, and the ground beneath the water – which was steadily rising – was too uneven to walk safely blind.

Ser Puck evidently had had the same thought, because before Anna could voice her concerns, he had stopped and lit a torch, which he then held upright in the middle of the hemispherical tunnel they found themselves in.

The ground was rocks and mud and running water, as it had been outside although it was not, apparently, paved or built in any consistent way. The water had risen to their shins and now definitely impeded their movement, but other than that did not seem all that foul for sewer water, though it was undeniably pungent and unpleasant and gave Anna's stomach a twisting sensation. The walls and ceiling of the tunnel were composed of interlocking flagstones, dark green and blue-gray, and stretched on into the darkness ahead.

Ser Puck waved the torch back and forth, and continued walking. "We'll turn left at the first fork, here, and then right at the next one," he explained, though it sounded that he was mostly talking to himself. "Then it's only a couple dozen paces before we'll have our exit, and we can get out of this ruddy place."

"Is there any chance of running into watchmen down here?" asked Anna, though she had a feeling that was a silly question.

Sure enough, Ser Puck gave a half-hearted chortle. "Good gods, you want them to do their job? Please."

"It's important," stressed Anna. "They're Lord Hans's eyes in more ways than one."

Ser Puck gave a conciliatory nod at that. "Yes, that's true – but I've never in my life heard of a watchman patrolling the sewers. If Lord Hans knows we're down here, I'll eat my hat."

They continued on into the tunnels, Ser Puck with lit torch in front. Directly behind him was Anna, ever at the ready, and taking up the rear was Aagnar, his face as ever held in a flat, inscrutable expression as he scanned the sloping flagstone walls.

They walked for what felt like an awful long time, slowly, carefully  _slosh_ ing their way through the sewer waters that never rose above their shins. The deeper they went, the danker the tunnels seemed to get, so that by the time they reached the first crossroads, where the tunnel branched left and right at sharp 90-degree angles, it felt like they were miles beneath the city.

"So, left here," said Ser Puck, pointing, and he went down the left fork. With a quick bite of curiosity, Anna turned her head in the other direction to look down the forsaken path, and saw still greater darkness there.

"Ser Puck," she said, "do these sewers connect to the castle at all?"

"Oh, no," chuckled Ser Puck. "No. The Arenborg is completely severed from the sewage system of the city. It's practically an island unto itself, separate from the city. How we get into the castle when all this is said and done, well – that's a bridge we'll cross when we get to it, I suppose." He chuckled a bit at his own joke, and they kept sloshing down the tunnel.

Eventually they reached the next fork, the path branching off into right and straight forks. They turned right, and the tunnel narrowed somewhat. Now the sewage flow, though it remained at shin height, was moving more quickly, and it was proving difficult to maintain their pace, not to mention their footing.

"That's it, just a little farther…" said Ser Puck, and sure enough, scant minutes later they came up on a section of tunnel that widened slightly to accommodate a raised platform above the flow. They quickly mounted the platform and, grateful for the felicity of movement, continued along it. Shortly after that, they found a ladder embedded into the wall that went up into a hole in the ceiling, one that appeared to lead to a dead-end but which was, in fact, an iron hatch in the streets above.

"There's our exit," said Ser Puck, in a tone of voice that suggested he was quite glad to see it. He sighed wearily. "Let's get up there, then. I'll go first, then you, Aagnar," he nodded in Aagnar's direction, "and Anna, you will come last." He handed Anna the torch.

"Understood," said Anna, taking the torch. She backed away while Ser Puck mounted the ladder and started climbing. When he reached the hatch, he braced himself against the ladder rungs and pushed upwards. With a distinct  _pop_ ping sound, the hatch lifted out of the hole, and the admittedly meager light of the world above spilled into the tunnel with an eerie cast.

Ser Puck quickly scrambled through the hole, his head swiveling from side to side as he did. He disappeared from sight and, moments later, stuck his head back into view. "Come on, then, quick!" he whispered loudly.

Aagnar mounted the ladder next and, just as Ser Puck did, climbed up the ladder and out of the exit hatch. When he had also disappeared, Anna threw the torch into the river of sewage, where it disappeared with a satisfying  _fssh_. Everything was dark again. With a little blind groping, she managed to place both hands on the ladder rungs, but before she could start to climb, she felt a sudden, violent chill slash down her spine.

It was as though an arctic blast of wind had run down the tunnel, howling madly. It enveloped Anna in a frigidity that cut her to the bone. She was shivering wildly, and her teeth began chattering uncontrollably. She squinted her eyes and, with all her strength, turned her head to look down the tunnel for any sign of what it was – but she saw only blackness, all the more absolute with no more of Ser Puck's torch.

After a short while, she felt the coldness die down, and everything was quiet again except for the sound of running water. Anna felt the strength return to her limbs – where had it gone? – and the breath return to her lungs.

"Hey!" hissed a voice from above. "You coming?"

"Y-Yeah," Anna replied hastily, and she flew up the ladder without another look back.

They were in the middle of a cobblestone street. It was dusky as twilight, and dark-windowed houses ran up and down the street's length. It was completely deserted.

Ser Puck carefully replaced the iron hatch. "Okay," he said, "Hugoss Hill is at the end of this street." He stood up and pointed to where the street bent in a wide curve, and, sure enough, about a hundred yards away in that direction, they could see the dozens of lit windows and the high hilltop profile of the Grand Merchant's Manor.

"Keep your eyes peeled for any watchmen," said Ser Puck warningly, and he drew out his longbow and plucked the string. Anna did the same with her own bow. Keeping their profiles low, they proceeded up the street in the direction of the hill.

The cobbled street curved to the left as it started winding up the side of the hill. The buildings in this district looked nicer and better-kept than those elsewhere in the city: they were all at least two or three stories, and the woodwork was always painted and carved into pleasant-looking, artisanal designs. They had little columned terraces and nice whitestone stoops, and Anna found herself somewhat distracted by the prettiness of it.

And yet, as nice as it all was, there was definitely something off about it. For one thing, the streets were completely deserted, and every single window was dark. For the houses being in such nice condition, they seemed utterly uninhabited.

At last, the houses thinned into nothing as the path turned again to sharply climb the side of the hill. The street sloped up into a gently sloping path, and the sidewalks were now lined with tall, thin fir trees, glittering with snow.

They had gone up the hill some way, the walls of the manor dead ahead, when, abruptly, Ser Puck veered off the side of the road, frantically beckoning to Anna and Aagnar to follow. They did, and passed between the fir trees to enter the snowy, unpaved hillside.

"Now we need to find some way to break in," said Ser Puck, squinting his eyes at the manor walls. "Ser Anna – erm, Princess Anna, that is – can you break through these walls, do you think?"

Before Anna could reply, Aagnar spoke up. "Why can't we just walk in the front doors?"

Ser Puck snorted. "Surely, you're joking?"

"I'll just tell them who I am, and they'll let us in. Surely, that would be easier – and a great deal less suspicious – than blowing up my lord father's walls."

"Easier, yes," said Ser Puck testily. "Safer, no. The fewer the people who know we're here before we reach Lord Hugoss, the better."

Anna, however, was not sure she agreed. She looked at Ser Puck dubiously. "Aagnar is right, though. Assuming that I can even blow up these walls, if we get caught sneaking in, I can't imagine that would go over better than knocking on the front door."

"We can fight our way out of a sticky situation," said Ser Puck, and he twanged the string on his bow – though he did not look very convinced.

"Fight Lord Hugoss's men?" said Anna with a raised eyebrow. "They're all the support we'll have once the alarm goes up. I'm all for secrecy, but we don't need to make the mission harder than it already is. If we're right and we can trust Lord Hugoss, then we can reveal ourselves to the doormen safely. If not, then this mission is for naught, anyway."

Aagnar nodded his agreement, and Ser Puck pursed his lips as he seemed to work it over in his head. Finally, he relented, and with an exaggerated sigh, shouldered his longbow again. "Okay, fine. Let's go say 'hi.'"

Anna shouldered her own bow as well, and the three of them walked back to the road. They went up the hill, the manor growing larger and larger as they neared. Finally, they were yards from the entrance; a huge pair of iron-banded, weathered oak doors sat staunchly in the pathway, framed by thick stone walls with iron-spiked parapets. Indeed, one look at the walls told her that her intuition was correct: she doubted she could make it through that stone, at least without making a great deal of noise.

Two sentries were standing outside the doors, each of them wearing navy blue surcoats with a five-pointed golden star on the front: the colors of House Hugoss. Anna's heart lifted slightly.

One of the sentries banged the end of his spear against the cobble path. "Halt! Who goes there?" he called.

Ser Puck and Anna parted to allow Aagnar to pass through. "It is I, Aagnar," he said proudly.

The sentries' jaws dropped. They goggled at him, then looked at each other, and then looked back at Aagnar. "M'lord, it's really you?" one of them said.

"Yes, and I must needs see my father  _at once,_ " said Aagnar sternly.

The sentries did not miss a beat. One of them spun around and banged the door with his fist. "Open up!" he called. "A guest!"

"A guest?" boomed an unseen voice. "At this time of, er… well? Who is it?"

"It's the young Lord Aagnar!" said the sentry urgently. "Come to see his father!"

A furtive moment of silence followed this pronouncement, and then, with a great rumbling, the doors parted magnificently. They opened inward, revealing the confines of the grounds beyond.

Another sentry – this one wearing a flat, deflated-looking blue cap in addition to the surcoat, stepped into the threshold. He looked a lot older than the other sentries, and had a wispy gray beard. He produced a small, glass circle from a pocket on his surcoat and placed it in his eye.

"By the gods!" he exclaimed, popping the little glass lens out of his eye again. "It's really you! My lord, you – I – how did you…?"

"We can discuss that later," said Aagnar urgently. "For now, we must see my father."

"'We?'" repeated the sentry, and he squinted at Anna and Ser Puck, placing the lens back into his eye.

"Yes, I and my companions." Aagnar gestured to Anna and Ser Puck. "Ser Puck – you know him, I'm sure – and Princess Anna, though you would have known her as 'Ser' Anna."

The old sentry's eyes widened, and the glass lens teetered slightly before falling out. He just managed to catch it, though it was clearly the last thing on his mind. "Ser Anna?" he breathed.

The other two sentries also looked quite shocked to hear this, and they stared with bulging eyes. Their fingers moved restlessly along the shafts of their spears, and, for a moment, Anna felt that they were debating internally as to whether they should skewer her or not.

"Yes," said Aagnar, and by now the impatience was clearly audible in his voice. "And, as I said, we must needs speak to my father,  _immediately._ "

"Of course!" cried the old sentry, and he pocketed the glass lens, tottering out into the street to bow before them. "Follow me! Lord Hugoss must hear of this at once – at  _once_ , I say."

He led them into the manorial grounds, but not before Anna caught a nasty, suspicious glance from one of the sentries outside. She felt the small hairs on the back of her neck lift up, and quickened her pace, her gaze locked firmly ahead.

There was much to see straight ahead, for the grounds were lavishly furnished. A thin layer of snow covered what Anna was sure had once been a lovely garden, and beautiful marble fountains and statues littered the grounds. Leafless trees stood here and there with smooth, curvy trunks, and the path itself curled in lovely spiral shapes as it wound its way towards the mansion in the center.

The mansion was, in a word, enormous. Terraces and tresses were all around it as it towered up at least four or five stories, and rows of dozens of silky glass windows were burning with light from within. The path finally swooped in to the main entrance, which was itself a huge dome held up by beautifully shaped columns. The doors were twelve feet tall and made of polished wood, and all in all Anna was surprised that the mansion – which was easily a fifth the size of the Arenborg, if that – was somehow more impressive than the castle from up close.

The old sentry led them up the steps and under the dome, and reached the doors where two more sentries were waiting, and watching curiously.

"Who's this?" asked one of them.

The old sentry, apparently out of breath, stopped for a moment to wheeze a bit. "It's Lord Aagnar," he said at last. "And he wants to see his father."

The sentries' reaction was exactly the same as those they had met at the walls. Quickly, they stepped to it, and pulled the doors open in tandem to reveal the golden confines of the mansion within.

They entered a long, arched hallway, well-lit by the many hundreds of candelabras that lined the white walls. A rich blue rug extended the length of the hallway, and all along the walls hung portraits of old men, each one captioned with a name. Anna read one:  _LORD WILLIAM HUGOSS._

There was no time to read all of them, however, as the old sentry was walking briskly now. "My lord will be in his study," he explained. "He's often in there, these days. Busy trying to keep supplies moving steadily – hard work.  _Impossible_  work, I daresay. And then the word of the siege came in yesterday and, well…" He shook his head sadly.

He led them down several additional halls and passages, up flights of stairs and past more portraits, paintings, hanging tapestries, decorative rugs, and candelabras. Finally, they scaled one last set of stairs, and came out in front of a pair of dark brown doors with two polished brass knobs.

These doors had another two sentries posted outside of them. But as it was well-lit, they did not need to be told that it was Aagnar that stood before them. Trembling, they dropped to their knees without missing a beat.

"My lord…"

"Save it," said Aagnar curtly. "My father."

They jumped back to their feet and saluted. The old sentry went to the doors, grasped each of the brass knobs, and pushed forward.

It was a wide room, at the end of which a row of clear, glass windows showed the city beyond. The floor was covered in a thick blue rug, and the walls were covered with bookshelves and cabinets stuffed with curios, books, parchment rolls, and knickknacks. From the center of the ceiling hung a crystal chandelier that dazzled with the fire of its candles, and filled the room with muted, flickering light. At the far end of the room, beneath the row of tall glass windows, a wide, heavy wooden desk accommodated several stacks of parchment, scrolls, inkpots, and quills, and one very fat man with a close-cropped blond beard.

He was deep in concentration on a piece of parchment in his hands when the doors opened. He looked up wearily, the lines beneath his eyes so pronounced that Anna felt a sincere stab of pity, and found herself wondering when the last time was that Lord Hugoss had gotten a full night's sleep.

"My lord," said the old sentry, striding to the middle of the room and taking a knee. "I am sorry to disturb you, but it's… it's your son."

Lord Hugoss looked at the man quizzically, and then looked behind him to see Aagnar, Anna, and Ser Puck.

It was like time had stopped.

"Aagnar?" he said distantly, tentatively – as if to say it aloud invited the risk of chasing it away. Not a single muscle moved in Lord Hugoss's face as he stared, and his voice was soft and hoarse, as if it had grown weak with disuse. "Is that… is that you?"

Aagnar appeared to hesitate. Anna looked up at him. His jaw was locked, his face set into a steely, determined look. Shaking slightly, Anna saw Ragnar raise his chin and step forward with admirable steadiness.

"Father," he said. "I have returned."

"My boy!" whispered Lord Hugoss, and his eyes began to water. "By the gods, I thought you – I thought they – I thought…"

Abruptly, Lord Hugoss stood up, and his eyes dried and narrowed in a shrewd, calculating glance. "Wait a minute," he muttered. "How am I to know this is not a trick? To test my  _loyalty_  to the  _Lord Regent?_ " He ground his teeth and all but spat out the words while his hands curled into fists. "There is no question that you are my son, but I have seen what the Lord Regent is capable of."

Aagnar had clearly not expected this, as he was now frowning in a bewildered sort of way. Quickly, Anna stepped forward.

"It's not a trick!" she said urgently, making sure that her voice was heard. "Lord Hans had no hand in this."

It was then that Lord Hugoss seemed to notice her for the first time. He gave her a double-take, and then his face melted once more into one of weary relief. Quivering, he sank back into his chair with a heavy sigh.

"It's true, then," he said quietly, almost to himself. "You  _are_  alive… and…"

"And my brothers," added Aagnar, picking up the thread again. "Father, we are all safe and sound. Thagnar and Ragnar are beyond the walls, safely with the Valkyrie."

"Safely, you said?" said Lord Hugoss vacantly. "But, I don't understand. How did you…?"

"It was Anna," said Aagnar. "She freed us from Lord Brendan, and with the help of the Valkyrie, we overthrew him. Now we're laying siege to Crystalwater, and we need your help to breach the walls."

Only then did the color seem to return to Lord Hugoss's face. His eyes flickered, and he gave Aagnar another glance with that same shadow of calculation. "How did you get into the city?"

Ser Puck answered that one. "We snuck in through the sewers," he said flatly.

Lord Hugoss nodded somewhat vacantly at that. "And how many of you are there?"

"At least three thousand," said Aagnar.

Lord Hugoss frowned at that. "That is not enough to take this city."

"Reinforcements arrive daily –"

"And are certainly only just adequate to substitute losses to attrition," Lord Hugoss cut across him. He leaned across his desk and steepled his fingers in front of his face. "No, I don't expect many in this country – not least of all the Valkyrie – know what it takes to siege out a city like this. In all this time, she has not succeeded in re-taking Falksberg. Indeed, my men still hold that city. I suspect it is not only the weather but because she knows that, while she is equipped to beguile and outsmart lesser barons in the uplands, taking a proper  _city_  is another matter entirely. Having her ranks swelled by legions of loyalists has given her a false sense of her capabilities. At least, that is what I told Lord Hans." His eyes flashed dangerously, and he looked directly at the three of them. "Tell me, assuming I was able to open the gates for you, what would your next course of action be?"

Ser Puck and Aagnar were both frowning now, but Ser Puck, with a twitch at the corner of his mouth, braved an answer. "Why, we'd enter through the gates… and take the city, of course."

"As easy as that, hehm?" said Lord Hugoss with a wrinkle of his nose. "Remember that the Giant held the passes of the Up-And-Downs against far greater numbers. Those gates are a death-trap waiting to happen, but moreover, you will find no better odds fighting in the streets than out there. Lord Hans has thousands of men at his beck and call. Most in the city are under his thrall. No, your best bet for taking this city isn't in fighting his men, nor bypassing the walls. It's in ending his thralldom."

A tense silence followed this pronouncement.

"And how," said Ser Puck, after a lengthy pause, "do you figure we do  _that?_ "

To Anna's momentary dismay, Lord Hugoss gave a heavy shrug. "I'm sure I don't understand his magic, but I've definitely noticed it. I've lived in its shadow for a year now. As bad as the winter is, I fear nothing so much as the Lord Regent's sorcery. Every day, I've thanked my stars to have been spared the worst of it – and dreaded the day he shall have no further use for my wits."

"Lord Hugoss," said Anna abruptly, and he turned to look at her. "Why  _has_  Lord Hans not placed you under his thrall?"

"Are there limits to his power?" ventured Ser Puck hopefully.

Lord Hugoss frowned deeply. "I often ask myself that same question," he answered quietly. "I thought, at first, that it was because he couldn't – because to do so would overtax his capabilities. It turns out that wasn't quite the case. And then, I thought it was because he treasured my mind, my abilities, unspoiled by domination – but the onus of delegation did not stop him from enthralling Lord Myles, who remains as clever and resourceful as ever."

Lord Hugoss paused momentarily, his frown deepening even further. A cold, hateful glare steamed up from within him. "And then I finally realized that it was because he simply didn't want to."

"What?" said Ser Puck, confused.

"Oh, yes," said Lord Hugoss, nodding solemnly. "I think he enjoyed watching me work myself to the bone. I think moreover, he realized that he didn't  _need_  to enthrall me, not when he had the threat of my sons' safety to hang over my head. But the worst part of it was, even as I knew this was what he was doing, what choice did I have? He held all the cards. So long as I worked for him, I had hope – but the moment I defied him, I would have nothing at all." Suddenly, his expression darkened, and his face contorted with calm fury. "But now that his hand is empty… I will make him  _pay._ "

This was a sentiment Anna heartily agreed with, and she could not stop herself from saying, "Oh, don't worry. I intend to."

Lord Hugoss blinked at her, and then Aagnar cleared his throat. "So, are there no limits to his power?" he asked pointedly.

"Ah, now, I didn't say that, my son," answered Lord Hugoss, looking back to Aagnar with the very first of a smile that Anna had seen so far. "Being so close to the Lord Regent, and yet so in command of my own wits, has offered us a very vulnerable back-door in his defenses. It used to be that he could not command thralls any further afield than the castle walls. But now he is sending rangings all across the country. I'm not sure how, but my theory is that some kind of magical beacon is extending the range of his power, like the flame in a very tall light-house. If the beacon is destroyed then so, too, will the thralldom be ended – or so I hope."

"And where is this beacon kept, do you think?" asked Ser Puck.

Lord Hugoss chuckled darkly. "Someplace tall," he said. "Someplace abandoned, forgotten – and yet, for some reason, still guarded by his men. I speak, of course,” he leaned forward, “of the Crystal Towers.”


	30. The Crystal Towers

"Ah," said Anna involuntarily. With Lord Hugoss's pronouncement, she had suddenly found herself remembering the tall fort of nevermeltice in the near-center of the city, with its tall, blue-gleaming towers. Anna vaguely remembered something she had once heard about how the towers had been constructed by the Ice Queen herself, and were all that remained of the city – other than the castle – that had not burned down when King Heimdal the Torch had burnt the city to ash rather than let it fall into the hands of an invading army. But the Crystal Towers had stood, earning them the nickname of "the Unburnt Towers."

"You're sure it's there?" asked Ser Puck – but before Lord Hugoss could answer, a commotion broke through the doors behind them.

Just as they all turned to look, the doors burst open, and in swarmed at least a dozen men in black-and-gray checkered surcoats and polished black chainmail armor, each one wielding a halberd held at the ready. They entered the room and quickly formed a semi-circle around Anna, Aagnar, and Ser Puck, whose hands had all flown instinctively to the hilts of their weapons.

Lord Hugoss had jumped to his feet, with surprising agility given his size. "What is the meaning of this?" he bellowed. "City Watchmen, in my manor? Without a warrant? I'll have your heads for this!"

"Know your place, fat man," came a drawling, wry voice, and the watchmen parted to let another through.

It was a man of average height, dressed garishly in a bright yellow surcoat that bore the design of a coiled, green snake on the front. He had brown hair, and neat brown sideburns, his mouth and chin neatly shaven. A longsword hung at his hip, and on his back appeared to be mounted a shield that was, for some reason, covered in a thick, black cloth. He gave them all a heavily lopsided grin.

"Ser Jonathan," said Ser Puck coolly. "Nice to see you again."

"That's  _Captain_  Jonathan to you," snapped the man, his smile vanishing at once.

"Since when is Captain higher than Ser?" said Ser Puck, so obnoxiously that Anna half-expected Ser Jonathan to walk forward and deck Ser Puck in the face.

But Ser Jonathan kept his cool, and only gave Ser Puck another little lopsided grin. "Snark all you want, tiny knight. You're only digging yourself deeper."

"I say again, what is the meaning of this?" said Lord Hugoss. "This is a private residence, and you have no ri–"

"On the contrary," interrupted Ser Jonathan, raising his voice to speak over their heads. "The City Watch has the full authority, as granted by the Lord Regent himself, to investigate any domicile whatsoever on the grounds that seditious activity is suspected there." He chuckled. "Well, we suspected – and here we are." He gestured at Aagnar and Ser Puck. "And it looks like we were thoroughly justified in this. One, an escapee from prison; and the other, a known collaborator of the vicious bandit raider who has been terrorizing these lands for the past eighteen months…"

"How did you know we were here?" asked Aagnar, narrowing his eyes at Ser Jonathan.

"We got an anonymous tip from one of your gateguards," said Ser Jonathan with an air of mock congeniality. He gave Lord Hugoss a sympathetic look. "You  _really_  ought to be more careful about who you're hiring. A few silver pieces a week looks less and less like a rum deal in these… troubled times."

Lord Hugoss clenched his fists, but said nothing. Ser Jonathan gave a small chuckle, and finally turned to face Anna.

"And… ah, well, if it isn't the biggest traitor of them all,  _Ser Anna._ "

"That's Princess Anna to you," snapped Aagnar, with sudden sharpness.

Ser Jonathan looked taken aback by this. " _Princess_  Anna? Oh, so that's your game, is it?" He laughed coldly, and shot Anna a look that positively dripped with malice. "You've come a long way from sticking up for dirty peasants in bars, haven't you?"

"Better than bending over for dirty bastard princes," said Ser Puck dryly.

Ser Jonathan's smile evaporated instantly, and he whirled on Ser Puck so quickly that Anna barely had time to react. Ser Jonathan's sword was out, and Ser Puck had instinctively raised his bow in defense – the sword cleaved through the bow in a splintering of wood, and Ser Puck stumbled backwards and fell, the ruined remains of his weapon clutched in either hand.

Anna and Aagnar had both drawn their swords now, and the rest of the watchmen had taken a menacing step forward, brandishing their halberds threateningly at the two of them.

Ser Jonathan sneered at Ser Puck, sitting on the ground. "Maybe that will teach you to hold your tongue, traitor," he growled. He leered over at Anna and Aagnar, and sniffed. "I suppose there's no point dawdling any further. Take them."

The watchmen did not immediately react. "Um, ser," said one of the watchmen hesitantly.

"What?" snapped Ser Jonathan, whirling on him.

"Well, it's just… that's the Green Devil, innit?"

"So?" said Ser Jonathan, and Anna noticed his voice was a semitone or two higher in pitch than usual.

"Didn't she take out an entire detachment of the duke's men all by her lonesome?"

"You worthless flea-brain," growled Ser Jonathan. " _Look_  at her. Do you really think she's any match for  _you_?  _You_  – who have been touched by the the Great One's magic?"

"Well, I –"

Another watchman cut him off. "You see, ser, this is why we don't bring rookies along on raids. They haven't had time to let the glory percolate, d'ye know what I mean?"

Ser Jonathan looked between the two of them. "The point is that  _one_  of you should be more than a match for  _both_  of them."

The first watchman did not look convinced. "Well, ser, I –"

"Jameson, you are riding on my last nerve," growled Ser Jonathan, and he turned to the other rookie. "Dawlish. Show him how it's done."

With relish, the second watchman held up his halberd and advanced on Anna and Aagnar. Distinctly, Anna felt the faint shiver in the air that had accompanied the snowmen on the road to Vardale.

The watchman named Dawlish swung his halberd down at Anna with blinding speed. She caught it on the edge of her sword, and heard, to her great satisfaction, the astonished gasps of the other watchmen. She knocked the halberd aside and, with greater speed still, jabbed her attacker staunchly in the gut.

He dropped his halberd and collapsed to the ground, writhing. No blood seeped from the wound, and Anna yanked her sword free, leaving him cringing.

"We fought a ton of you lot on the road here," said Aagnar warningly. "Just try us."

Ser Puck scrambled to his feet, tossing the ruined remnants of his bow aside and pulling a long, sharp dagger from out of his boot. "Yeah," he added defiantly.

Ser Jonathan stared at them, and the corner of his eyes seemed to twitch slightly. Around them, the other watchmen had leveled their halberds, but they all looked incredibly tense, and were giving each other shifty looks out of the corner of their eyes.

"No matter," said Ser Jonathan, in a voice that belied his façade of calmness. "So, you can fight. Fine. I guess I forgot that you were a monster in addition to being a traitor. Well, I won't risk it." He took a step backward and threw a hand over his shoulder, pulling the shield off his back. He gave the shield a mighty jerk, and the black cloth that was completely covering it unraveled.

Anna gasped.

The shield was the icy-blue color of a glacier wall, and its surface was as smooth and reflective as a polished mirror. It was so immaculately shaped, and so clearly unique, that Anna knew what it was at once.

"My shield," she said faintly.

Ser Jonathan gave a twisted smile. " _Your_  shield? Oh, no. This is a gift from my dear lord father. All your possessions are forfeit, traitor – and to the victor goes the spoils."

Anna gripped the hilt of her sword more tightly, and shot a quick, furtive glance at Aagnar and Ser Puck – but something was wrong. They were both staring at the shield with an odd, slack-jawed gaze, half fascinated and half… terrified.

She looked at the rest of the room. All of the watchmen were either shielding their eyes or had lowered the visors on their helmets, and all were looking pointedly away from Ser Jonathan and his shield.

Ser Jonathan gave an awful smirk. He gave the shield a short, quick thrust in the direction of Anna and the rest, and Aagnar and Ser Puck flinched slightly – but they did not raise their weapons or react beyond that. They were hopelessly entranced.

"Do you like it?" said Ser Jonathan coyly. "I call it the _'Shield of Despair.'_  All who look upon it are consumed by despair, and become helpless!"

Anna felt a wave of bemusement.  _That's not right,_  she thought. She blinked, and stared at the shield herself. She blinked again, and looked back to Ser Jonathan, who was now advancing slowly on them.

"Well, go on then!" he barked. "Look!  _Look at it!"_

He thrust it forward again, and Aagnar and Ser Puck both flinched and fell to their knees.

"So… c… cold…" gasped Ser Puck, burying his head in his hands.

"M… my… b… brothers…" stuttered Aagnar, forcing his eyes closed.

Ser Jonathan gave a harsh, derisive laugh. "Brought to heel so easily. Almost makes this job seem tedious. All right, men! Seize them-  _what?"_

Anna had stepped forward so that she was standing between Ser Jonathan and the kneeling figures of Aagnar and Ser Puck. She wanted desperately to give Ser Jonathan a hard, determined look, but she couldn't prevent herself from smiling broadly.

"The 'Shield of Despair,' huh?" said Anna, grinning. "You stupid little man. That's not how it works."

"W-What?" sputtered Ser Jonathan, staring wildly at her. "Be quiet, you! Look!  _Look!"_

He all but thrust the shield in her face, and Anna only laughed again. "This shield doesn't show despair," she said calmly. She felt an odd, wistful pang in her heart as she remembered the conversation with the spirit that, now, felt so very, very long ago. "It reflects what's in your heart, for better or for worse. It reveals all your hopes and all your doubts and all your longing. You've been using it on people who have been living in fear and cold, people who have forgotten what it's like to have hope."

The air in the room was suddenly very thick, and an odd mixture of feelings stirred in Anna's chest as she went on, speaking despite herself. "You knew it as a font of despair, but it's not a font. It's just a mirror. A mirror." Anna felt her smile falter, and she gave the shield a long look.

Ser Jonathan looked afraid now. Huge beads of sweat had formed on his forehead, and he was trembling, staring at Anna like she was twenty feet tall. "What… what do you see?" he asked quietly, unable to keep a hint of awe from his voice.

"I see my queen," said Anna quietly. She brought her eyes up to stare Ser Jonathan full in the face. "Surrender," she commanded.

For a moment, Anna thought that he would – but a split instant later, his face contorted with rage. "Like hell!" he hissed.

Anna hefted her sword and advanced on him, and then a lot of things happened at once.

"Oh my gods, okay!" screamed Ser Jonathan abruptly, and he chucked the shield to the ground. It bounced once and fell in a clatter on its back as Ser Jonathan threw himself to his hands and knees. "I yield,  _I yield!_ Just don't hurt me!"

All the watchmen dropped their halberds and ran in all directions, some crashing into the walls and others running face-first into one another. A couple had made it to the doors.

"Catch them!" bellowed Lord Hugoss, and his voice carried across the room resoundingly to reach the sentries at the door. A slight struggle ensued, and the sentries subdued the escaping watchmen and brought them back into the room.

Lord Hugoss waddled around the desk and jogged up to them, as Aagnar and Ser Puck picked themselves up, and Anna lifted the icy shield off the ground. Elsa's face beamed up at Anna from the shield's shiny, polished surface.

Soon enough, all the watchmen were lined up on their knees, their hands bound behind them, each one with a morose, confused look on his face. Lord Hugoss gave them an appraising look, and turned back to Anna, Aagnar, and Ser Puck with a thoughtful expression.

"This is the first time I've ever seen the Lord Regent's thralldom collapse so spontaneously," he said quietly, beckoning them close. "Normally, his thralls can withstand quite a lot of duress."

"What does this mean?" asked Ser Puck.

"It means that now is as good a time as any to climb the Crystal Towers and destroy the beacon," said Lord Hugoss with a firm nod. "I'd hazard a guess that he's distracted by something. Now,  _what_  that could be – you'd think, with the siege, he'd have all hands on deck – I have no idea, but that's my theory."

Ser Puck nodded as well. "We thought that might be the case, as well, or why wouldn't he simply turn everyone in the city into a soldier and come sortie us?"

"Well, his distraction is our opening," said Lord Hugoss with a shrug.  _"Attack where your enemy is weak,_  and all that."

"What's that?" asked Ser Puck.

"Sun Tzu's Art of War," said Aagnar at once, and Lord Hugoss gave a prideful, hearty sort of smile.

"It's good to see you were paying attention in your lessons, my boy," he chuckled. Lord Hugoss then turned to look at Anna, and his expression turned serious again. "Now, did I hear my son refer to you as a… princess?"

Anna, who had grown quite used to this sort of thing, simply nodded. "It looks like I'm Queen Elsa's long-lost sister, my lord."

Anna expected him to sputter an apologetic "Your Grace," or make some half-hearted interrogation attempt, like so many before him – but, to his credit, he seemed totally unperturbed. In fact, his face contorted into an odd cross between a pained grimace and a knowing smile.

"I thought this day would come," he murmured. "Before Ser Magnus left the castle for the last time, he told me he was looking for something – someone important. He wouldn't tell me who or what, but he did say it would make all the difference for Arendelle's future. When you won that tournament and told the queen that you had met Ser Magnus on the road, that's when I knew. Whatever it was, he was talking about you: the last, best hope for this country."

Silence greeted this pronouncement. Anna did not know what to say. She swallowed a hard lump in her throat. "I… I don't know about that, my lord."

Lord Hugoss shook his head. "Whether you are a princess or not, I am in your debt. But enough about that!" Suddenly he spoke in a quick, confident rumble. "There will be time to sort it out later. For now, we still have work to do. We must open the gates and take the Crystal Tower."

Anna felt confidence surge back into her, and she nodded. "Leave the Crystal Tower to me," she said.

Lord Hugoss rose an eyebrow at her. "You mean to take it by yourself?"

Before Anna could say "Yes," Aagnar cut in: "No. I'll go with her."

Both Anna and Lord Hugoss considered him for a moment. He wore his usual severe expression, and his eyes were narrowed in calm determination.

"All right," said Lord Hugoss at last. "We'll make a distraction for you."

"Leave  _that_  to me," said Ser Puck. "Give me a few men, my lord, and I'll raise so much hell they won't know what they're doing."

"And the rest of my men can get to the walls to open the gates," said Lord Hugoss, stroking his beard. He gave a terse nod and grunted. "We're settled, then. Let's move."

* * *

They regrouped for the last time at the walls of the manor. From the hill-top, all the city was their vista. Clusters of buildings, dark and dismal, spread out in all directions, stopping abruptly at the great white walls with their watch-towers and crenellations. They could see the castle, too, off to the west, wreathed in black clouds.

But Anna was focusing on none of these things. She was staring at the Crystal Towers, which were like icy spires in the city's center. They were tall, and not far from the city square. Unbidden, Anna had a vision of one of the towers falling over and collapsing, spreading the contents of its top all over the city square.

"We're ready," came Ser Puck's voice from behind her.

Anna turned to look at him. "What's your plan?"

"There's a barracks on the docks," said Ser Puck. "We're planning on setting fire to it. When the Watch come running, we'll give them a merry chase up and down the pier. At least, the confusion should give the rest of you lot plenty of time to do what you must."

Anna nodded vaguely, but as she looked at Ser Puck, she realized there was a hole in his plan. "You don't have a weapon," she said.

Ser Puck shrugged sheepishly. "That's true," he admitted. "But I don't need a weapon for this."

"It might help you live, though," said Anna; and before Ser Puck could say another word, she reached over her shoulder and unbound her bow and arrows. "Here." She held them out to him.

Ser Puck's eyes goggled at the offering. "Your bow? No, I… I can't accept this. An archer's bow is his own."

Anna almost laughed. "This bow was a gift to me. It saved my life. Now, take it and let it save yours."

Ser Puck continued to hesitate, but he said nothing. He was staring at the bow and Anna could tell he was thinking very hard of another excuse not to take it.

"Let me make this easy on you," she said, thrusting the bow and arrows into Ser Puck's arms with such force that he stumbled backwards slightly. "As your princess, and as regent for the queen, I  _command_  you, a knight of the crown, to take this bow and cause as much hell as possible. Do I make myself clear?"

Ser Puck looked from the bow to Anna. A slight, ghostly smile appeared on his face, and he bowed. "As… as you wish, Your Grace."

After that, Ser Puck didn't complain, and he hooked the bow over his shoulder and added the arrows in the quiver to his own. Shortly, a contingent of Lord Hugoss's men, about a dozen, all with hoods and leathern armor and wielding shortswords and axes, joined them and filed behind Ser Puck. And then came Lord Hugoss himself, wrapped in an enormous woolen cloak, and looking stern.

Aagnar's eyes widened slightly. "Father, you don't intend to lead the men yourself?"

Lord Hugoss looked taken aback. He raised an eyebrow at his son. "You doubt my ability to do so?"

Aagnar opened his mouth to respond, but said nothing. Lord Hugoss chuckled heartily.

"As long as  _you_ are going up the tower,  _someone_  needs to lead my men," he said. "Don't you worry, I can hold my own."

Aagnar, far from being placated by this, looked horrorstricken, but Lord Hugoss waved a hand. "No second thoughts, now," he said in a rather final tone. "Yours is the more important of our two missions. All of this is to make sure you make it up that tower and destroy that beacon. And remember, it's the middle tower, the tallest one – that's where you'll find it."

His words stayed with Anna as she and Aagnar made their way into the city.  _The middle tower, the tallest one – that's where you'll find it._  She cast furtive glances up at the Crystal Towers now and again, her eyes drawn inexorably towards the tallest tower, undeniably the centerpiece of the lesser spires around it. And she felt, in her stomach, the truth of his words: There was something dark and foul at the top of that tower.

They reached the bottom of the hill and entered a row of houses. All the buildings were quiet and still as the grave, their windows shuttered, their roofs covered with snow. They passed into a deserted alley and, when they emerged on the other side, heard voices from down the street.

"…A disturbance near the Hugoss place?" asked one voice.

"That's what they say," growled another. "We're meant to go check it out."

The voices grew fainter, and Anna peered down the street after them, seeing a small contingent of men shuffling away. When they were gone from vision, Anna and Aagnar dashed across the street for the next alley.

They continued on like this deeper into the heart of the city, evading the City Watch patrols who, more and more, were growing harried and rushed. By the time they were a block from the Crystal Towers – and at such closeness, they seemed impossibly tall – all watchmen they encountered were hurrying in the opposite direction, shouting about a fire. Anna suppressed a knowing grin, and led Aagnar around the edge of the last block of houses.

The base of the towers was shared between them: A squat, squashed-looking edifice made of the same bluish nevermeltice, and out of which seven, slender towers shot like arrows to the heavens above. The center tower was made even more impressive by a long, jagged spike on top, and imposed itself over the whole thing with a sick, unearthly aura.

Aagnar let out an appreciative whistle, but said nothing, and just then, Anna noticed that they were not alone.

They hadn't noticed Anna or Aagnar yet, but standing in front of the entrance to the base were two City Watchmen, leaning on their halberds with glazed looks in their eyes. It stood to reason, now Anna thought on it, that Hans would have guarded the place his beacon was kept, if indeed it was the key to his maintaining power over the city. But only  _two_  guardsmen seemed like a meager defense for anything, especially – Anna thought ruefully – given that they were no match for  _her_  at all.

Aagnar noticed them also, and drew his sword. "Shall we?"

Anna drew out Wintersbane with one hand, and mounted her shield on her other arm. She nodded at him, and they both broke into a charge towards the guards.

A few seconds into the charge, the guards seemed to notice them. Stiffly, as if by rote, they held out their halberds to receive the attack – but it was such an easily-read move that Anna and Aagnar had no trouble at all weaving within the range of their weapons. When Anna was close enough to see the whites of the guard's eyes, she ran him through with her sword.

He had put up even less resistance than she could imagine. She pulled back her sword, and the man crumpled to the ground in an ungraceful heap. To her side, she heard Aagnar's guard also fall to the ground.

"Is that all?" he said dryly.

Anna frowned, and a short, stiff breeze heckled the back of her neck with biting cold. She looked away from the fallen soldier. Before them, the entrance was open. There was no door, and inside all she could see was a pale blue, dark hallway.

"I don't think so," she replied, and she readied her weapons. "Be on your guard."

Cautiously, they proceeded into the interior of the fortress, and although the hall had looked ill-lit from the outside, Anna had no trouble navigating the interior. The ice seemed to give off its own light, and they quickly found their way to an atrium that branched off into seven different doors. It was immediately clear that the tower they were looking for lay off one of these branches.

Anna looked around. All of the branches looked identical, except for little markings above each of the doors that Anna could not read or recognize at a distance.

Aagnar spoke into the quiet. "Any ideas? The doors are marked, but it's in some kind of strange language… I can't read it."

As he stared, frowning puzzledly, at one of the markings, Anna moved closer. She looked at the words written above the nearest door on their right, and recognized the familiar, flowing script:  _NIDHOGG_ , it said.

Her heart gave a distinct flip, and, her chest pounding, she turned to the next door.  _AREN._

The next.  _HAFGUFA._

She span round and looked at those on the opposite side.  _JALHRIMNIR._

_CHIONE._

_ANDREW._

Mind racing, she turned to look at the final door; and then, she froze.

Where she had expected – with a mixture of fear and eagerness – to see Elina's name, instead the space above the seventh door was blank. Or – not quite blank, but… devoid, in some hard-to-explain way. It looked like there had been text there, once, but it had been tampered with, erased, manipulated, like some amateur sculptor had taken a hammer and chisel to it, removing what was there before but leaving an undeniable, although subtle, scar. Try as she might, however, as much as Anna believed the door had once been marked  _ELINA_ , now it was only blank, and the door stood label-less in a room filled with other doors and hallways that remembered their purpose.

"This is the one," she said aloud, still staring at the blank space above the door. "This is the tower we're looking for."

Aagnar walked up next to her, his puzzled frown expanding into a look of sheer bewilderment. "How do you know?"

"I just know," said Anna, and without waiting for him, she strode forward and pushed open the doors.

They opened gladly, and beyond the doors, a hallway led to another, smaller, circular room.

With some trepidation, Anna stepped through the threshold, Aagnar following reluctantly behind her. She walked into the smaller circular room, and looked up to see the room they were now in was extremely tall. The ceiling seemed hundreds of feet away, and the walls were scattered with narrow windows all along its length, all of them letting in misty light that seemed brighter than it really was thanks to the pale reflections on the icy walls.

Anna frowned, at a complete loss as to what to do next.

"We can try another door," offered Aagnar helpfully, after a few moments of silence. They were both staring up at the distant ceiling, and then Aagnar turned his attention to the walls and windows.

"Blimey, what a waste," he mumbled, looking at the floors. "Why build a tower that's impossible to climb?"

But Anna wasn't paying attention. She thought she saw something move on the distant ceiling, or the high-up windows near it. Was it just her imagination? She narrowed her eyes and tried to see better. Yes, it looked like the windows were moving – disappearing, actually, one after the other. In fact, now that she saw it, the ceiling seemed to be getting bigger, too – a lot bigger, and fast.

She gasped suddenly. "Move!" she shouted at Aagnar.

"What?" he said, startled, and he looked at Anna with surprise.

There was no time to explain. With both hands, she grabbed Aagnar by the shoulders and heaved, leaping out of the room just in time to avoid the ceiling that had slammed with an earth-shaking thud onto the floor they had just been standing on moments before.

Lying on the ground, dazed, Aagnar shook his head and looked at the room, his eyes wide.

The floor had been replaced – or, rather, was now covered by – a giant, icy plate, one that spanned the base of the tower, and was quivering gently in place.

Anna stood up and dusted herself off, and Aagnar quickly followed.

"We're meant to ride it," she explained, with more certainty than she felt. She stepped carefully into the room, setting both of her feet on the quivering, icy plate. It seemed to sway slightly under her weight.

She turned back to look at Aagnar, who was staring at the plate like it might rear up and bite him.

"You coming?"

After a second, he nodded quickly, and mounted the plate also.

No sooner had both his feet planted on the plate's surface than, with a horrible lurch, the plate jumped into the air, rocketing upwards with incredible speed. Anna fell to her rear, and the passing air whipped at her face as the icy plate continued accelerating upwards.

Suddenly, after mere moments, the plate jerked to a halt, causing Anna to hop into the air slightly as the plate came level with an icy platform that surrounded on all sides. The windows in the walls around them were now roaring with wind. The plate had brought them to a new room, one where the ceiling was much lower, and a winding spiral stair ran around the perimeter, leading to the room above.

Aagnar, who had also fallen during the ascent, stood up with a wince. Anna did also, and they both stepped carefully off of the still-quivering plate.

"Magic," grumbled Aagnar, rubbing his sore bottom. "Who knew?"

Anna checked her sword and shield and looked out one of the windows. They were hundreds of feet above the ground, now. She looked further afield and saw rising smoke coming from the pier, and thought – though there was no way to be sure – that she saw signs of fighting below. Had Lord Hugoss's men successfully opened the gates? She hoped so, but that only meant that there was no more time to waste. She looked over at the winding stair. "I think we're almost at the top," she said. "Brace yourself." Aagnar grunted his acknowledgement. When they were both ready, Anna climbed the steps, Aagnar close behind.

The stairs led them to a wide, circular room, and the first thing Anna noticed was the thing she instantly took for the beacon.

It looked like a giant, ugly heart made of ice. It was hovering inches above a round dais in the center of the circular room. The icy walls were lined with regularly-spaced open-air windows. The view might have been incredible on a clear, fine day; but for now, all that could be seen through the windows was moiling dark clouds, and, far below, the flashes and lights of an evolving conflict.

"This must be it," Anna said to Aagnar, as her eyes turned back to the floating, icy heart. The heart looked like and was as transparent as a block of ice, except for the very middle of it, which was spoiled by a streak of red and black that looked like a splatter of dried blood. There was no doubt in her mind that this was the object Lord Hugoss had mentioned, and this was the thing that she had to destroy.

Aagnar said nothing. Anna hefted her sword and her shield, and she took a step toward the heart.

Suddenly, she felt a blast of icy wind – the same blast she had felt in the sewers, when she was climbing the ladder. Her teeth started chattering again, and she held Wintersbane close to her body. Her eyes swiveled left and right, trying fervently to find any sign of her attacker.

But there was no need: it materialized itself before her as soon as she felt it. It looked like a ripple of sea foam, dancing in the air, and swiftly coalesced itself into a big, shimmering mass of pure white. Two bright, blue eyes emerged out of the folds in the white mass, as well as two long, spindly, many-fingered appendages with cruel, sharp-looking claws.

It glided towards her, leaving behind it a trail like evaporating steam. Anna tried to raise her sword, but found, to her horror, that her limbs were utterly paralyzed. Nothing would respond. A wave of panic overtook her, and with all the effort she could muster, she tried to move anything – any part of her – even  _blink an eyelash_. All she could do was stare into the hard, blue eyes of the huge white wraith that was gliding toward her.

Suddenly, with a battle-yell, Aagnar appeared from behind her. He bounded up to the apparition, swinging his sword in a valiant slash.

But it was no use – the sword passed through the apparition like air. It kept gliding toward Anna. He gave it another slash, and yelled, in a way that Anna thought was quite uncharacteristic of him, "Come on, you big dumb ghost! Fight me!"

The apparition stopped. It did not take its bright blue eyes off Anna, but a part of it seemed now to be paying attention to Aagnar. He made another pointless swing, and then, with a horrible jerk, the apparition slashed its long, terrible claws. It narrowly missed Aagnar, but the queer whistling sound they made as they moved through the air told Anna, with sudden despair, that those claws were razor-sharp.

The apparition was still staring at Anna, but now its body was rippling strangely. One hand was outstretched in Aagnar's direction, and Anna saw a huge bead of sweat form on his forehead.

They stood motionless, Aagnar not daring to move, and eventually the apparition started gliding forward again.

"No!" shouted Aagnar, and he struck again. But this time, the apparition was ready – it swung its hand in another quick slash, but, wait – Aagnar had backed out of the swing just as he had made it, and, sidestepping deftly, swung his blade up to connect with the apparition's wrist.

The sword parted it cleanly, and the severed hand floated off into the air where it evaporated in a white puff. With an ungodly screech, the apparition tore its eyes away from Anna and spun on Aagnar with impossible speed. With its other hand, it grabbed Aagnar around the throat and lifted him bodily into the air. Aagnar thus held, struggling, the apparition flew through the air to slam him, headfirst, into the icy heart.

Just then, Anna realized that she was no longer paralyzed. She blinked as she felt the strength return to her body. With not a moment to lose, Anna hefted Wintersbane again and dashed forward.

The apparition was a split second too slow. It span round, and, just as its beady blue eyes met Anna's again, she brought her blade down right on its face.

It screeched again, and its eyes went dark and black as its entire body spasmed violently. It floated away from her, jerking this way and that with quick and sudden movements, until, with a final shudder, it exploded into a thousand white particulates that evaporated into nothing.

Anna lowered her sword, breathing heavily, and went over to where the apparition had vanished. She stared blankly at the space it had been moments before. "I hope that's it for you," she told the empty air.

Suddenly, she screamed in agony as she felt a sudden, piercing pain enter her back. It was white-hot pain, pain as she had never felt it before, and as she looked down, she saw the point of a sword emerge from her chest. It lengthened, and lengthened, until a foot of heavy steel was sticking out of her body.

She stared dumbly at it, and a sudden jerk forced her to her knees. The pain washed over her body in awful, numbing waves, and, slowly, she felt her right hand unclench. Wintersbane hit the floor in a clatter.

"And I hope that's it for you," chortled a voice from behind her.

It was Aagnar.

There was a horrible, grinding, squelching noise, and then she felt another jerk as the sword was pulled free, leaving a gaping, bloody wound where it had been. As she blinked the tears of pain out of her eyes, Aagnar walked into her vision again. He had a mad little smile on his face, and his eyes, normally so cool and placid, were alive with a dark, intense fire. The sword in his hands was covered in blood.

With an awful, sinking feeling, one wholly exacerbated by the pain overtaking her at that moment, Anna realized what had happened.

"Lord Hans," she whispered, trembling.

"You are not fit to speak his name," snapped Aagnar, his face twisting horribly. "Recant, bitch."

"Aagnar…" Anna coughed. "Please, this isn't like you. You can fight this. It's… it's the heart…"

His face contorted into another twisted smile. "No. This  _is_  me. And I have caught you, his greatest enemy. All I have to do is deliver you to him, and tell him of my father's betrayal, and he will grant me all of my  _dear_  lord father's titles and properties." He spat, his voice dark with sarcasm.

Anna stared at him in disbelief. "Listen to yourself," she pleaded, "the Valkyrie's men have already broken into the city. All we need to do is" – she coughed again, a splatter of blood bursting from her mouth and dribbling down her chin – "destroy the… heart."

Aagnar scowled at her, his face half-amused, half-disdainful. "You really think that all this that you've brought is enough to destroy the works of my lord?" he whispered savagely, his eyes glowing with passionate hatred. They flickered down to Wintersbane, still lying on the ground. "Maybe  _this_  is," he admitted with a snort, and he knelt down to pick it up.

He dropped the other sword carelessly as he wrapped both his hands around Wintersbane's blade and hilt. But as he straightened up again, however, Anna realized something was wrong. Aagnar's eyes widened and he stared down at the sword in his hands, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Suddenly, he started jerking around, throwing his arms back and forth as if he wanted to chuck the sword away from him as hard and as fast as he could – but the sword held fast, and Anna saw, to her horror, that his hands had frozen solid.

"What the  _hell?_ " he exclaimed, jerking around wildly now.  _"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?"_

Anna blinked. Slowly, wobbly, she stood up. Her knees felt extremely weak, but still she forced herself over to him. He was still dancing around, trying to shake the sword from his grip.

She stopped him with one firm hand on his shoulder, and punched him hard in the face with the other one.

The gauntlet crushed his face in with incredible force, and he flew across the room to slam heavily against the wall. He slid to the ground, his eyelids fluttering opened-and-closed in a daze. Wintersbane clattered to the floor again, and Anna picked it up.

Without another moment's hesitation, she turned back to the dark, icy heart. It seemed now to be pulsing, as though it was pumping blood very quickly. She lifted up Wintersbane and thrust it deep into the center of the heart.

A shockwave rumbled the entire tower ominously. Large, sharp cracks appeared all throughout the heart, and another shockwave rumbled the tower with greater strength than the first. The dais cracked, and the heart's fissures widened.

The final, third shockwave did it. The heart shattered magnificently, and the tower started rumbling with a high, persistent tremor, cracks appearing in all the walls and floors.

Anna felt that she had reached the end of her tether. She felt oddly tired. She looked down and saw the bloody wound in her chest.  _Oh,_  she thought vaguely.  _That's right._

"…Princess Anna?"

Anna turned around, and saw Aagnar rubbing his head with blue, purpling hands. He looked confused and frightened.

Anna went over to him. He looked at her, and then at her wound, and his eyes seemed to widen ever so slightly. "I… I can't believe I… I'm sorry…"

"It's not your fault," she said sadly.

"Yes, it is," he said resolutely, and he closed his eyes and shook his head. "I saw him talk to me, or, I… I felt like he talked to me. He promised me things, and I… I… I lost."

Anna didn't know what to say. Aagnar opened his eyes again, and stared fixedly at her.

"You're not done yet, princess."

Anna blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You've still got something to do."

No sooner had he said it than Elsa's face flashed in Anna's mind. Just then, she realized that her tiredness was ebbing away. Slowly, bit by bit, her strength came back to her. She felt strangely revitalized; rejuvenated. With a few abrupt gasps of breath, she pushed herself to her feet again. The tower was still trembling.

Aagnar was staring up at her with awe. He fixed his face into a steely, determined look. "Give 'em hell from me, princess," he said stoically.

Anna lifted a hand to feel the place on her chest where the sword had been. To her surprise, all that remained of the wound was a tear in her tunic – the skin was smooth and soft once more.

"I know you can."

And then the tower lurched. The floor gave way beneath her, and everything went crumbling down.

* * *

Anna woke suddenly. Everything was black, and she felt like a great weight lay on top of her. After several moments of confused thinking, she realized that a great weight was exactly what it was. She was lying amidst a mess of rubble – cold and heavy. It was ice. And, with a start, she remembered.

The tower. The heart. The beacon. The apparition. Aagnar.

She struggled slightly, wriggling against the icy blocks that were pinning her down, and then became aware of echoing voices, coming from outside the rubble. She stopped struggling, and strained to listen instead.

"The tower!" barked one voice, sounding furious. "It's fallen! Master… master will be furious."

Cries of dismay and confusion were now audible, and there was an unmistakable  _thud_  of a weapon bashing into something – or someone.

"The lesser thralls will be going off," murmured another, calmer voice. "There's nothing to keep the traitors back, now. Look, there – the bitch's men are coming."

Distant footsteps grew near, and Anna's heart gave an odd pulse to hear that there were dozens of them, moving quickly. There were some more confused shouts, and a new voice rang out.

"My lady, look! One of the Crystal Towers has fallen!"

Anna heard a growl, and some shuffling, and then the familiar voice of the Valkyrie, very close indeed.

"Stand down, you lot! You're outnumbered and your men are breaking!"

There was another growl, and the first voice replied. "Outnumbered, yes. But no–"

"Spare me," interrupted the Valkyrie. "I've heard this bit before. You know who we have with us, yes? She can render even the strongest of you to dust."

Suddenly, there was a distant shout, and the speaking stopped. Someone was shouting, yelling, and running closer.

"…No, Anna!" cried the voice. Anna's heart jumped, and she realized it was Ser Puck who was shouting. "She was in there! The tower…! Princess Anna…!"

They were talking about her. With a pang, Anna began struggling again. She attempted to cry out, to make herself heard – but she could muster no voice.

Those outside the wreckage seemed to cotton on to what Ser Puck was shouting, as furtive, uneasy gasps rippled all around.

The first voice barked with sudden laughter. "Ah-ha! So, your precious Ser Anna went down with the tower, did she? Very good! Master will be pleased, after all. There are other towers, and his magic is great – but there is only one Ser Anna!"

Nobody replied to this pronouncement, and Anna felt a sudden, chilling feeling overtake her as these words washed over her.  _But there is only one Ser Anna._  She wasn't sure why, but these words seemed to put everything into perspective. A rare moment of clarity blazed out in her mind, and the furtive panic of moments ago was replaced by a deluge of sudden understanding.

Slowly, carefully, she rested both gauntlets on the edge of the piece of rubble that was pinning her down. There was no need to struggle.  _There is only one Ser Anna._

She pushed.

She felt the rubble lift off her as easily as though it were a blanket, and air rushed into her lungs again as her diaphragm was free to expand. "I'm here!" she called, and though her voice cracked, she pressed on. "I'm alive!"

She tossed the rubble aside, and light stung her eyes. Pushing more of the rubble away, she forced herself to her feet and stood, swaying, surrounded by glittering shards of nevermeltice – the wreckage of the collapsed tower

She was in the town square, and it was full of people: the Valkyrie, with Ser Martin at her side, was at the head of a contingent of at least thirty men. On the other side, Ser Puck and the men he had borrowed from Lord Hugoss were there. And directly ahead of her was – she almost had to look twice – Ser Tazmus and Flynt the Bastard, both armored in black enamel full-plate, with long black swords held aloft.

And all of them were staring at her as though she had risen from the dead.

Anna realized it must have been Ser Tazmus who was speaking, and it was clear that he had been grinning maniacally until a moment before, so stark and complete was his utterly perplexed expression now.

"You…" He paused. "You… are… alive?"

Anna flexed her fingers as she realized, suddenly, that she didn't know where her weapon was.

Flynt had evidently noticed this as well, for he nudged Ser Tazmus sharply and gestured at Anna. "She hasn't got a weapon," he said, with a sidelong look at his comrade. "We can make this quick, and then mop up the rest."

"Right," said Ser Tazmus, a little distantly. "Right!" He drew himself up, and for a moment it was like he had been injected with sudden confidence. "I didn't think a little fall would kill you, anyway. It would be a rather poor ending for you noble rebels if your champion died before she ever made it to the battle. Fitting, but poor, I must say. I'll enjoy  _this_  much more."

He raised his sword, and Anna quickly scanned the rubble surrounding her for something, anything, that she could use.

"Charge!" she heard the Valkyrie's voice, and about a dozen men threw themselves at Ser Tazmus. With an almost lazy flick of the wrist, he repelled them, his black sword flashing the air and knocking the men back like they were paper. The Valkyrie formed up for a charge of her own, but Anna knew the charge was doomed before it even started.

"No!" shouted Anna; and then, she saw it, a glint among the icy rubble. Anna leapt for the Iceshield and pried it free of the wreckage, mounting it on her arm and jumping forward so that she was mere feet from Ser Tazmus, shield held aloft.

She felt everything stop. The Valkyrie skidded to a halt, sword in hand, and looked over at Anna expectantly – and was instantly mesmerized by the shield.

Ser Tazmus and Flynt both looked at the shield, and something in their eyes began to change. Anna thought, with a brief stab of relief, that it was working. She could keep them held long enough to find her sword, and then…

A sharp, terrible laugh interrupted her thoughts. Ser Tazmus was staring at the shield with an enormous grin plastered on his face.

"Ah ha! Ah, yes, I see you've found Ser Jonathan's  _Shield of Despair,_ have you?" He chortled with amusement.

Anna's stomach fell. Had she miscalculated? Was Ser Tazmus too far gone for the shield to work on him? Or, worse still, did he see, not pain, but joy in the shield? She adjusted her position, and thrust the shield out as though to foist the despair on him with greater vigor – but no luck. He smiled wider than ever.

"Oh, yes, I know what it does. I've seen it before." Ser Tazmus cackled. "I don't know what all these cowards are up about, but all I see when I look into it… is me. Me, wealthy, powerful. Me, Marshal of Arendelle, Captain of the Guard. Me, Ser Tazmus Cordrey, the finest and greatest member of House Cordrey…! And, what do you know? It's all  _true!_ " He laughed again, and held up his sword.

Before Anna had time to react, something else had stopped him. A black, gauntleted hand had lain itself on Ser Tazmus's shoulder.

He whirled around to look at Flynt, who had grabbed Ser Tazmus and was restraining him.

"What?" barked Ser Tazmus. "Do you want the honors? Well, just do it, then! We don't have all day!"

Flynt did not answer him. He was staring at the shield, his eyes fierce and blazing. "I, also, don't know why that idiot called it the Shield of Despair," he murmured quietly. "I never saw despair in it. I saw hope. I saw… a reason to kept living… like… like glimpses of a lighthouse from a ship lost at sea, mere islands in an ocean of insanity… Every time he showed it to me, I remembered why I'm still here. I remembered why I've held on for this long. I remembered who I am. I remembered a time before I called Lord Hans my master."

Ser Tazmus looked a mix between confused and angry. "What the ruddy hell are you talking about?" he snarled.

"I'm talking about who I am," said Flynt, raising his voice. "A bastard. Flynt the Bastard. Not a knight, not even a proper courtier. Treated as less than that my whole life, except by one man – the man who took me in as his ward when he led by father's forces to victory over Friedrich von Aanhaal."

Anna's heart was pounding furiously. What was he talking about…? "You mean Ser Tore?" she asked. "I thought you were his… son."

"No, I wasn't his son at all," said Flynt, speaking still louder. "I was Lord Wideriver's bastard son. When I was a child, Lord Wideriver's heir wanted me killed, so that I'd never contest his claim. But Ser Tore took me away, protected me, and called me his own bastard son. He told the new Lord Wideriver that his father's bastard was dead, so he had nothing to fear. Ser Tore legitimized me in his name. He treated me like a person when nobody else did. And  _you_  killed him."

He added this last part with unexpected venom, and Anna blinked in confusion – but then she realized that Flynt had not said this to her, but to Ser Tazmus, whose shoulder he was still clutching.

"What?" snapped Ser Tazmus, shaking off Flynt's hand and turning to look at him. "What are you saying?"

"You," repeated Flynt, "killed Ser Tore. You poisoned his wine and sent all the Royal Guard out of the hall. You were Weselton's inside-man from the beginning."

"Quiet, you!" ordered Ser Tazmus, and he brandished his sword threateningly. "If I hear you say one more –"

But the rest of his threat was silenced by a sudden, violent strike by Flynt, the flat of his black sword slamming against Ser Tazmus's chest. Ser Tazmus went reeling, and before anyone knew what was happening, the two were at it, swinging their swords at each other with lightning speed.

Now was her chance. Anna took a step away and looked around at the rubble again, hoping for any sign of Wintersbane. She found it almost instantly – twenty yards away, a blue hilt was poking up out of some rubble.

She sprinted towards it and wrenched it loose, and the white-blue steel shone more brilliantly than ever. She turned back to the altercation between Ser Tazmus and Flynt, dashing with her sword held raised…

But she needn't have done anything. Suddenly, Flynt had found an opening, and with blinding speed had inserted the point of his blade into the gap of armor on Ser Tazmus's neck. He gurgled horribly and dropped his weapon, but Flynt kept going until his sword had completely parted Ser Tazmus's head from his body.

Anna stared at Ser Tazmus's rolling head with a vaguely sick feeling in her stomach. Flynt removed his black helmet and fell to his knees, panting.

Anna looked at him. "I guess you're 1st Lieutenant, now," she said coolly.

To her surprise, Flynt smiled. Anna had never seen him smile before. Sure enough, the expression vanished when he stood up again. Only now did Anna realize the square was filled with other happenings as well: City Watchmen fighting each other, some men rolling on the ground, clutching their heads, others struggling to form phalanxes to fight off the Valkyrie's men… and at the end of the square, the drawbridge to the Arenborg was still lowered.

"Quell this lot!" commanded the Valkyrie to her men. "Secure the square!"

"The drawbridge!" shouted someone with sudden panic.

The drawbridge was being raised, slowly but surely.

Now. Without waiting for anything, Anna ran towards it, sprinting with all the strength in her being. The shouts and yells of her comrades fell short as she made her way to the castle, which seemed to loom, bent and twisted, over the entire city. Above it all, terrible and shrouded in dark, evil clouds, was the Tower of Arendelle, shiny and resplendent with its coating of ice and snow.

Anna reached the drawbridge when it was about two yards raised. She jumped and clutched at the edge with her arms, just barely grappling hold as it continued to rise, scrambling over the side of the drawbridge and sliding down the stiff, cold timber on the other side. She landed roughly on her hands and knees, and entered the Arenborg courtyard to the  _clang_  of the drawbridge locking upright behind her. She dashed across the white courtyard, and snowmen rose out of the drifts, long icicle claws reaching for her. Quick strokes from Wintersbane brushed them easily aside, and she climbed the steps to the main entrance, lifting a boot to kick open the heavy double doors.

The castle was so quiet that Anna could hear her heart slamming in her ears, could hear her blood thundering through her veins. She ran, ran down hallways, ran up flights of stairs, ran across the Great Hall which was once so warm and bright and, now, was cold and empty. She entered the final hallway, forcing the locked doors open with her gauntleted hands. The windows were cracked and opened, and wind flooded the halls and lifted the drapes in cold, dark gusts.

None stood on guard at the base of the tower. None ever did. She threw the doors open and a black wind ran down the spiral stairs to engulf her. It was all ice inside.

Her braids flew wildly as she threw herself against the wind and climbed, climbed, climbed, like her life depended on it.

_There is only one Ser Anna._

The ice covered all the stairs and walls, and as she looked at it, she did not fail to notice her own reflection. She slowed to a sudden, unbidden halt. Her sword and shield hung loosely at her sides, and she stared at her reflection, and it stared back. Her hair was completely white, and her two long braids cavorted about her head in time with the rushing wind. As she stared, she wondered, somewhat vainly, how anyone could ever have looked at her with fear or respect. She looked so scrawny, so drawn, so tired. Everywhere she looked the picture of cold death, except for her eyes, where she saw, and felt, the fire of her soul.

She turned away, and noticed, for the first time, a strand of white hair cross her vision. She brushed it carefully aside, and continued climbing the tower.

_A good Lord Protector._

Her boots slammed against the icy steps. Her step was sure, and she did not slip.

_A guardian angel._

As she climbed, the sound of the wind outside grew louder, and stronger, and the light from the windows grew fainter and darker.

_Born to serve…_

The voice in her head, she realized, did not sound like her own. It was mocking, contemptuous, but she could not honestly tell if it was Lord Hans's.

… _bred to die…_

A crack of lightning from outside flashed the stairwell ahead of her, and still she climbed.

… _doomed to succeed._

It  _was_  her own voice. She blinked the tears out of her eyes.

_There is only one Ser Anna…_

Her lungs were burning. The sky outside was charcoal.

… _and only one Queen Elsa._

There was another crack of lightning, and Anna gripped the hilt of her sword more tightly, prepared, against the doubt and fear, the hope and longing, and the faint, ephemeral shades of the life and love she knew she could never have, to face the end that she knew was coming.


	31. The Golden Power

Anna cleared the last of the steps in the spiral staircase and stepped on the threshold of the wide, open room she remembered from the last time she had been there. Like that last time, the floors and walls were all covered in ice, and the tall, staunch double-doors were frozen shut. Out through the room's many thin, narrow windows, only the black clouds of the swirling storm could be seen.

Anna's heart raced as she contemplated the frozen doors. The ice completely covered them and, except for a long indentation that ran up and down their height, they looked completely impregnable.

Then, Anna's heart jumped.  _They're locked,_  she thought, with tremulous enthusiasm.  _They're locked, and only_ I _can open them._  If nothing else, she had at least beaten Hans to the tower. There was time, time still to reach Elsa and rescue her, perhaps before Hans could show up and stop her – time which was so precious right now.

Sword in hand, Anna strode across the room and gave the doors another hard look. She knew, in her heart, that she was equipped to bring them down; but still she wondered how. She looked at the dark indentation again and, hardly thinking about it, lifted her sword and stabbed it straight through.

A queer, echoing howl erupted from the door itself, and the floors and walls of the room seemed to tremble and shake. Without warning, an ear-splitting crack filled the air, and the icy doors were parted in a blizzard of shards. As the cold dust settled, slowly, creakily, the doors opened and revealed the room beyond.

It was another semi-circular room, the other side of the tower, and the open doors stood in the middle of a dark, azure-blue wall that was caked in frost. At the end of the room, two separate sets of stairs climbed the walls on Anna's either side.

It was deathly quiet, and Anna's breath formed thick fog in the air. All sound seemed to have gone from the world, and the wind from outside swam noiselessly against the still, unmoving panes of frozen windows.

Anna proceeded to the base of the steps – she chose the flight on her left – and began to climb once more. The stairs formed a corridor where they circled up the inside of the tower walls, rising out of sight. They met the other flight at the base of a small, narrow landing, where there was another set of double doors, also covered in frost, though not frozen shut like the last. They were smaller, simpler doors, and as Anna placed her hands against them, she felt a strong, slow pulse, emanating from within.

With infinite caution, but absolute determination, Anna pushed.

The doors parted easily before her strength. A soft breeze from within hit her in the face, and her eyes watered slightly as she beheld the enormous room inside. Tall windows of stained glass surrounded the circular room, each of them depicting some different, strange, unknowable scene. An almost melancholy sparkle pervaded everything as the ice-coated frosty walls and domed ceiling reflected the pale, hallowed light of a tremendous icy crystal.

It nearly took Anna's breath away. It was tall, sixteen feet at least, and it sat in the middle of the room, its edges clear, sharp, and transparent. At the very crest of the crystal was a golden glow, and in the crystal's center was…

 _Elsa_. It was Elsa, standing as though hovering feet above the ground, her eyes closed and her hands crossed. The crystal that encased her was so clear that the only hint that Elsa was trapped within came from the distorted refractions of the crystal's uneven edges. She looked so sad, so isolated and alone – and yet, standing like that, straight-backed and unmoving, Anna felt a sudden pang of heartfelt admiration for Elsa's brave and stoic soul.  _Hang on, Elsa,_  she thought. _I'm getting you out of there._

But before Anna could act on this thought, before she could even move an inch forward, her eyes lingered downwards to the base of the crystal, and her blood ran suddenly cold.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to get here," he said quietly.

" _Hans,"_  Anna hissed breathlessly.

He was standing with his back to Anna, staring up at the icy crystal. The tips of his gray, woolen cloak brushed the icy floor, and his head turned slightly at the sound of Anna's voice.

"Are you surprised to see me?" he asked calmly.

"How did you get up here?" said Anna with a snarl.

Hans gave a terse chuckle. "I assume you found a way to break down those doors, then. Well, kudos for that – but the time has long passed that  _I_ have needed to bother with such mundanities as doors."

The shadows in the room shifted oddly at his words, and he paused. He glanced up at the crystal again, and was silent for a long moment. When he spoke again, his tone was soft and reverent. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" he murmured. "Such power, such magic – and I am so close, and yet so very, very far away."

He turned abruptly, whipping his cloak around him. He looked the same as she had remembered him, with his red sideburns and his hateful, pride-filled little eyes. He was smirking slightly, and it was then that Anna began to feel a slight tingle in the air, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

Anna brandished her sword and assumed a fighting position, and Hans gave another terse chuckle, this one through his nose. "Do you still plan to fight me with steel, then?" he asked. "You should know that is no good against me. I've only grown stronger since the last we met, Anna. Living in the shadow of this witch has given me power you could not imagine. It is funny to imagine how so much magic could exist in any one person. To be honest, it reminds me a little… of you." His eyes flashed ominously. "But then, that does make sense. You  _are_  her sister, after all."

The words rung Anna like a bell. Anna gave a half-stifled gasp, and she felt her heart skip a beat. "How…" she choked, "how do you…?"

"How do I know she's your sister?" Hans smiled. "I could ask you the same thing." He looked back at the crystal. "I heard it from  _her_. Not directly, mind you: She is too far gone for direct communication of any sort. You see, for most of the time this crystal has been still and silent. Powerful, yes, there's no denying that – but inert. In the past week, however, that's… changed."

He took a casual step forward and flexed his hands in a careless manner, but Anna did not react. She was staring at him, and, in spite of herself, she felt intense curiosity at his words, and even a dash of fear. He knew something, and, however much it was, it might change everything. And if he knew about the sword…

"I thought, at first, I must be imagining it," Hans continued. "Yes, the storm had seemed to worsen, and the waves of magic I felt day-in and day-out grew stunted and erratic, but as far as I knew, there was no reason your sister's imprisonment should be broken. But that all changed when you slew my men up in the forests of Kakariko. There, I learned that you had returned, and that explained why I felt the loss of my man in Burrowstown – but that did not bother me. What bothered me was hearing  _her_  voice."

He jerked his head back in the direction of the crystal, and his amused look faded slightly. "I thought it might have been a trick but, to be sure, I knew I had to investigate. It was then that I realized how foolish I was being. I  _thought_  this tower truly off-limits to me, so long as that icy lock of hers held – but what are walls and doors to a powerful sorcerer such as me?"

As he spoke the last word, his entire form suddenly began to shift. His body melted into a pillar of dark ooze, and collapsed to the floor in a puddle of thick, black ichor. It quivered momentarily before it darted suddenly across the ground with as much felicity and speed as the shadow of a sky-bird. It ran to one side of the room and rose out of the ground again, the dark pillar it formed re-shaping itself back into Hans's body.

Anna swiveled on him, sword still held out, though now with a sudden feeling of apprehension. She gripped her sword more tightly, and kept her eyes fixed on Hans as he continued to speak.

"Once I found my way up here," he went on, "I found this crystal – and it confirmed all of my suspicions."

He melted again, and the black shadow-like puddle flitted across to the other side of the room, where Hans re-appeared with a slight chuckle.

"I saw everything," he said. "This close, I have had the privilege to see the entire contents of her mind laid bare before me. All her secrets, her thoughts, her hopes, her fears – her foolishness. And, most of all, you."

He melted, and the shadow ran back to the center of the room at the base of the tall ice crystal. When Hans re-formed, Anna held up her sword and shield, her heart pounding, and took a step closer to him.

"Easy," Hans lifted up a hand. "You don't want to fight me. Or, maybe you do – and that's your funeral – but I haven't finished yet. You see, I learned all about  _you_  from her, as well. Not just the fact of your supposed royalty, but where you came from, and what you are. This question vexed me like nothing else. The day you escaped my dungeons, I asked myself,  _Who_  is this little upstart from the north?  _What_  is her relation to the most powerful ice witch in history – powerful even more so, I daresay, than the legendary Ice Queen herself? Were you just a little sister after all, one that Elsa loved so dearly that her unconscious mind lent magic and protection far beyond normal ken? That couldn't be it, after all, we both know her magic is killing you." His eyes flitted unmistakably to Anna's white hair, and she gritted her teeth to keep from responding.

"No," he went on, "that couldn't be it. Are you an agent of the gods, then, some guardian angel sent by the gods in mortal form to protect and serve the Royal Family of Arendelle? No, I reasoned, that couldn't be it, either. While it might explain your affliction and power, it could not explain your odd and undue fascination with the queen, something, it seems, that was instilled in you from birth."

And then he paused, and his lips curled in a thin smile, and he looked at Anna with morbid delight. "But then I figured it out," he said quietly. "You know, I'm sure, if you have seen the same memories I have. To wish upon a star…"

He paused again, and his eyes became glassy and without focus as he stared at one of the stained-glass windows. "I have wished upon a star many, many times in my life," he said wistfully. "You know the rhyme, I'm sure. They say it makes no difference who you are. It is true: No matter who you are, wishing upon a star will do  _nothing_."

He spat the last word with sudden venom, and stared at Anna again. "You were not born because Elsa wished upon a star," he said coldly. "You were born because Elsa's magic made it so. You are, in other words, a product of her magic – no more exceptional or special than the many hundreds of snowmen you yourself cut down to be here today. I should have known the truth of it when Elsa referred to you as her champion. Yes, the words were more true than she knew: _you_  are her champion, her snowman – a soulless, mindless golem, forever in servitude, with never a thought to bar your way. And that is why you are here tonight. You have come willingly to your grave, and you never once thought to question it, because that is simply not what you were made to do."

Anna's mouth was dry. She glared at Hans and his cold and hateful gaze, but far from feeling hurt or defeated by his words, she felt oddly… empowered by them. What he meant as a castigation of the highest order, she only felt as an affirmation of equal degree. And, perhaps most importantly of all, he did not know about the sword.

She could not stop herself from cracking a smile. "What can I say?" she said. "I swore an oath."

Hans snorted. "An oath to die," he said scornfully. "What, exactly, is your plan? Have you forgotten what happened the last time you tried to fight me?"

"If I fall here, that makes no difference," said Anna, deciding on the spot to play into his assumptions. "Your beacon is destroyed, and the city is being taken by the Valkyrie's men. Soon you will have three thousand men bearing down on you, and nothing to protect you except a lot of snow."

Hans laughed ruefully, but Anna did not fail to notice his face redden slightly. "You think any of that matters? Bring them on, I say. I will slaughter them all, and then raise them again as my loyal men. And once you and the rest are done, I will finish the work I've started  _here,_ " he lifted a hand and pointed behind him at the huge, jagged crystal. "I will pry the Golden Power free and take it for myself, and then I will take your queen's magic  _and_  her kingdom!"

As he pointed, Anna looked up, and she saw it as plain as day: At the very top of the crystal, cresting it like a tiny cap, a golden triangle shone out from the ridges of ice like a leaf of gold on a sunny day. And in that moment, Anna realized that this was where Hans had been distracting himself – and she knew, with a barely-concealed surge of triumph, that he had been wasting his time.

"You foolish man," she said with a grin. "You think  _you_ have what it takes to break the Golden Power's magic?"

Hans's amusement vanished in a scornful snarl, but he didn't say anything.

"Don't you realize that all Queen Elsa's been doing for this past week is fighting against it?" Anna went on. "Fighting  _against_  her imprisonment? And yet, even with all her magic she  _still_  can't escape. But what she's succeeded in doing is distracting you long enough for all of your physical defenses to fall. As I speak, the Valkyrie's men are securing the city and breaking into the Arenborg. You might be able to shatter one sword, but you cannot shatter three thousand."

Hans's face was now as red as an apple, and his hands formed into tight fists. There was no longer even the trace of amusement in his mouth or eyes. "Like I said, let them come! My magic –"

"Your magic won't help you here!" taunted Anna. "Don't you see? It wasn't your magic that failed you, Hans, it was your wits. You failed to realize an obstacle you couldn't best, and now you stand poised to lose everything – the war, the kingdom, and your life. So, go ahead and kill me. My sweet sister will dance on your grave, and the pike they stick your head on will be their Midsummer maypole!"

That did it. Hans was almost purple, and he screamed out incoherently with rage. He lifted a hand, and the pressure in the room dropped precipitously. The air was warping and swirling around his hand, and a crackle of energy cast bright flashes on Anna's face.

Anna lifted her sword and charged just as Hans hurled the ball of lightning at her. It spun through the air in a dazzling arc, and she brought Wintersbane's edge up to meet it.

The ball of lightning met her sword's slash and ricocheted off with a mighty crackle and a flash of light. Anna barely had time to register the widening in Hans's eyes as the ball of lightning zoomed straight at him.

He screamed in agony as the ball hit him. He crumpled over, the tips of his cloak smoking and his various extremities twitching wildly as arcs of errant electricity jumped from his head and hands.

Anna reached him and lifted her sword, just as Hans looked up. His eyes wide, he lifted his hands and a semi-transparent blue film covered him just as the edge of Anna's sword hit his side. The film vanished at once, and the force of the blow lifted him up into the air. He flew across the room and slammed against a wall, where he slid to the ground in a defeated, unconscious heap.

Anna stared at his fallen form for just long enough to confirm that he was really down. Then, she turned to the crystal.

Standing right next to it, it really did seem huge, and the golden glow on top was even brighter than it was from further away – but Anna had no eyes for any of it. She was staring at the rigid form of Queen Elsa, still frozen within.

Anna suddenly found herself at a loss, unsure of what to do. Carefully, she held up a hand and placed it against the icy crystal.

Then she felt it, a slow, constant pulse – like a heartbeat – emanating from the crystal. This, she realized, must be the magic that Hans was talking about: the energy from the crystal. And as she closed her eyes, she  _saw_  it, too: An endless hallway, filled with side-passages. She was gliding down it at top speed, and every time she looked into one of the passages, she saw a different memory: The snowmen; the injury; the trolls; the funeral; the potion; and all throughout, she heard distant, slow sobs, distinctly in time with the slow and constant pulses.

Then, finally, she reached the end of the hallway, and she saw within a blank, eternal void; and, within it, the icy crystal, this time covered with cracks and fissures.

And then she felt a hand take her own.

Anna opened her eyes with a start, and her hand jerked back away from the crystal – but nobody was there. Everything was as it had been before, and Elsa was still frozen, her eyes still closed.

With some trepidation, Anna lifted her hand again, and placed it against the crystal. The pulses started echoing through her once more.

Suddenly, Anna remembered. There was only one thing that could undo this magic.

She pulled her hand back again, and hefted her sword. Pointing it at the crystal, she stabbed with all her might.

A high, piercing  _sching_  filled the air, and cracks swarmed across the crystal's surface. It trembled for a moment, and then another; and then, abruptly, the crystal shattered into a million pieces, the Golden Power flying high into the air, and Elsa –

Anna dropped her sword and dashed forward, holding both arms out. She barely made it, and caught Elsa in her arms before she hit the floor. Anna fell to her knees, Elsa in her arms, and Elsa, whose eyes were open and scanning the surroundings with sudden and wide-eyed worry, met Anna's with all of the fear in existence.

Elsa's mouth worked soundlessly as Anna, struck dumb by the heavy warmth that had stolen over her heart, looked on with mute appreciation at the woman she held in her arms.

Anna's voice found itself first. "Good evening, your grace," she said quietly.

"Anna," Elsa managed at last, her voice breathless and almost hoarse. "How… but… where…?"

"We're in the Tower of Arendelle," said Anna. "I, uh, I broke the… the prison that was… that was holding you."

It was then that they both seemed to realize that Elsa's hands had fallen around the back of Anna's neck, and had, up to this point, been clutching as though for dear life. At this realization, which Anna had neither noticed nor, at this point, minded, Elsa hastily withdrew her hands, but made no further attempt to move from her position cradled in Anna's arms. Her bare fingers played with each other as she looked up at Anna nervously. "How… how did you…?"

"Wintersbane," said Anna quickly, and Elsa blinked in apparent bemusement. "Er, that is, the blade of legend, anyway. I found it, you see. I know that must sound ridiculous, but no more ridiculous than the Golden Power, right? I had some help, anyway. From the ghost, from, er, a couple of ghosts – but I found out the truth, about me, about us – or, rather, who I am, that is, and, uh…"

As Anna scrambled over her words, Elsa's eyes widened even further at this point. "Oh, no," she said quietly, and Anna immediately stopped talking. "You… you  _know_ , then…?"

Anna hesitated slightly, wondering, to herself, how much of this was overwhelming Elsa. "Yes," she said at last. "But –"

Elsa squinted her eyes as little tears welled up in them, and she tried to jerk away – but on some level, Anna had been prepared for this movement, for no sooner had Elsa turned her head away than Anna squeezed tightly, holding on to Elsa like she was a lifeline. "No!" she exclaimed, and Elsa stopped moving and looked back at her, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

A long pause extended between them before Anna went on. "I know," she said, "but I… I also know more than that. I know what you've been through. I know how hard you've tried to protect me, and I can't imagine how it must have felt to have carried that burden by yourself for so long. I know that everything you've done has been to protect me. And I now understand that all of this, with the storm, and the wish, it's not your fault."

Elsa sniffled, and gave Anna a quizzical look. "Not my fault?" she repeated, blankly.

"Not your fault," confirmed Anna with a nod. "You are very strong, but nobody can hold the whole world on their shoulders. And nobody should ever have to."

Elsa gave another sniffle, and shut her eyes tight. "I really messed up, Anna," she said in a watery voice. "The wish…"

"I know," said Anna again. "You wished that – you wished for me to be safe. And I –"

"No," interrupted Elsa, shaking her head from side to side. "No, I didn't. I wished… I wished that I wouldn't… that I wouldn't have to see you hurt anymore."

This took Anna by surprise. She stared at Elsa, whose eyes were still shut tight, and whose hands were worrying at each other with remarkable fervor, and she said nothing.

"I messed up," said Elsa again. "I should have… I don't know, it just… it hurt so badly that the only thing I wanted…" She sniffled again, and her eyes opened, the pupils unmistakably resting on Anna's white hair. "I only wanted not to have to  _see_  it anymore."

The words sank in, and Anna was silent. But even as she thought on it, she found herself thinking how little this changed anything; and her eyes focused again on Elsa's, so pretty and blue, now spilling over with tears.  _No,_  she thought,  _this changes nothing._

A fire blazed in Anna's center, and it became the only thought or care in the world. It was overwhelming, all-consuming, and the only thing she could think to say was the question she had most wanted to ask since last they met:

"Can I kiss you?"

Elsa blinked, her wide, watering eyes locked on Anna's. They flickered down to Anna's mouth, and then back to her eyes. And then, to Anna's infinite joy, Elsa nodded.

Without thinking about it, without allowing herself to think about it, without a thought or care in the world except the fire that burned in the furnace of her heart, Anna brought Elsa's soft, pink lips to her own.

The mere feeling of Elsa's mouth against hers set all aglow. It felt right, sacred, and all that she had said and done felt vindicated, here, by this most fitting of ends. She gave Elsa's lower lip a small squeeze, and felt the tease of a tongue in return. Anna could never remember feeling so wonderful, could never remember so pure or simple a joy, and the only shadow of guilt she felt was that it took so long for this moment to come, and that it could not last forever.

With a pang, Anna pulled away slightly. She felt a short breath tickle her nose as Elsa exhaled. "You have been very, very brave," Anna murmured over Elsa's lips. "Now, let me be brave for you."

Anna pulled away a little further, and she felt Elsa's hands take hold of the front of her tunic, gently but firmly. With a trembling thumb, Elsa began caressing one of Anna's long white braids. "Anna," she said, her voice quavering, "I… I don't want you to die."

Anna looked into Elsa's still-watering eyes, and her heart gave a little tug. "Yeah," she agreed softly. "Me neither. But I also really, really want  _you_  to  _live_."

"How touching," came a cold voice from behind her.

Anna did not jump or start, for she knew this moment was coming. She stood, still holding Elsa in her arms, and turned around.

Prince Hans was standing where she had left him, his cloak rumpled and singed, his hair wild, and his face twisted with cold, dismal hatred. "A touching reunion," he spat.

"It's over, Hans," called Anna, and she felt Elsa's arms wrap around her neck. "The queen is free, and the city has been taken. You have nothing left."

"It's over, all right," Hans hissed, and suddenly his face lit up in a delirious, malicious grin. "It's certainly over."

He held up a hand, and Anna's stomach dropped.

He was holding a small, golden triangle. He was holding the Golden Power.

Next moment, a bright, blinding glow burst from the triangle, and Hans flattened out his palm. The golden triangle began floating inches above the tips of his fingers and started spinning, slowly at first, but then picking up speed at an alarming rate. The golden glow bathed Hans's face, and his eyes blazed with greed.

Anna set Elsa on her feet and stepped forward, extending her shield arm to block Elsa's way. "Get behind me!" she said, and knelt down to pick up her fallen sword with her other hand. "Stay back!"

Slowly, Hans lifted up into the air, a maniacal grin plastered on his face. A small quake shook the tower, and tendrils of light wound their way around his limbs, outlining him in a fierce, ebullient glow.

" _Yes!"_ he declared, his eyes wild. "At last! The power is  _mine!"_

Wind whipped around the room in a maddening frenzy as the glow intensified, and Anna felt slender arms wrap tightly around her waist from behind. Hans's eyes became fonts of golden beams, and all the icy walls reflected the light in such a brilliant display that Anna had to shield her eyes. It grew brighter, and brighter, and…

Suddenly, an odd flash seemed to interrupt the glow. A ripple of blood-red shadow ran around the room, and the glow dimmed significantly. The golden sheen was quickly replaced by a ghastly reddish haze. The stained-glass windows became macabre visages in the foul light.

And then, a loud voice burst out like the screech of a thunder-clap.  _"Well_ done,  _boy!"_

The smile on Hans's face faltered and then vanished. "W-W-What?" he stammered. "What's happening?"

The golden tendrils that were wrapped around Hans darkened and became red and black. "What's happening!" mocked the voice. "Like you don't know?"

Hans started trembling as he floated in mid-air. "Who are you?!" he screamed. "What are you doing?"

"Taking my cut, friend!" replied the voice. "Or did you forget already that we had a deal? ' _You get the gold, I get the glory.'_  Don't you remember? Those  _were_  your  _exact words._ "

Hans's face worked horribly. "What?" he choked out.

"What!" mocked the voice again. "Don't be like that, you sour little child. You'll get your glory. For many years to come they'll talk about the role House Westerguard played in the events that unfolded this fine Midsummer's Day. Oh, or is that  _av Westerguard?_ " The voice laughed, a horrid, piercing noise. "As for me, I'm taking my cut now. The  _gold._ "

For a second, Hans's face was frozen in stunned disbelief. "You tricked me!" he screeched, and he started trembling madly. The tendrils had completely wound their way around him. "I… I thought we were…!"

"Friends?" finished the voice. "Oh, Hans, Hans,  _Hans._  You should know this better than anyone. After all, all men are tools…"

Then Hans's entire body jerked horribly, hoisted into the air another five feet. He seemed to be hanging in midair, as if someone had stuck a gigantic hook in the back of his neck.

"…to be used…"

Hans yelled – his eyes rolled up into the back of his head.

"…and discarded."

Hans's voice cut off abruptly, and the tendrils wound their way completely around him.

For several seconds, the entire mass hung quivering in the air. The only sounds were the lashing wind outside, and the faint, rhythmic chant of Elsa's breathing. Anna stuck her hand through the loop on her shield and reached behind her. She found Elsa's side, and gave it a light, comforting squeeze.

The mass exploded, suddenly and with incredible force. Elsa clung fiercely to Anna, who held up her shield arm against the blast, and together they managed to hold their ground. The windows, however, were not so lucky – each of them shattered with a deafening crash, and the whistling howl of the storm outside filled the chamber.

Anna lowered her shield, and her heart stopped.

An enormous, terrible monster was now standing in the place the mass of tendrils had been. It was a demon of shadow, towering twenty feet or more above them, severely muscled with coarse skin the color of coal, and a face like a boar's. It had wicked, curving tusks of sheer white ivory and beady eyes that glowed a fierce red. Long, vein-riddled wings stuck out of its back, and stretched across the room from wall to wall, and a short, mottled tail lashed the ground behind it.

"Now, that's more like it," it boomed, gnashing its long, sharp teeth. Its voice was low and gravelly, and seemed to shake the ground beneath Anna's feet. "Ah, Hans. You were a good minion. Snapped to it every time I asked. Believe me, I count my lucky stars it was  _you_  who came up the North Mountain that day and plucked me out of Andrew's little box. Although, I suppose I really should be thanking your dear old dad for leaving you half his castle's library. All those tomes on the North Mountain, nothing else to do on a barren island but drink and read – couldn't keep away for long, could you? Must have been one hell of a fourteenth birthday plan. Really, a shame it had to end this way. But," the demon cackled, a dark, foul noise, "you're in a better place, now."

It reared itself up and looked around, as though it was considering its surroundings for the first time. It looked down and saw Anna, and Anna looked at him right back in those red, beady eyes.

"Right, the sisters," it said, rolling its eyes down at them. "The wish."

Anna didn't move. "Who are you?" she called.

"Who am I? My lady, I'm hurt," said the demon. "You  _know_  who I am."

Anna stared at the demon, and suddenly her eyes widened, and a jolt of panic ran through her. That man… the man who stole the Golden Power… the one Andrew had tried to seal away…

"Agahnim," said Anna softly, staring up at him. "You're Agahnim."

"Agahnim!" boomed the demon. "Agahnim! I remember that name. No, I am not Agahnim. I was, once, but no more. I am more than that now." It cackled again, its voice deeper and darker than before.

"You…" said Anna slowly, "but you were locked away. Trapped in the Golden Power. Andrew–"

"Locked away?" repeated the demon, snorting loudly so that two gouts of steam issued from its nostrils like jets of smoke. "No, tiny one, I was not locked away. I was  _broken._  I  _am_  the Golden Power." It held up the backside of one of its giant hands, and, slowly, but surely, the golden outline of a triangle made itself plain on his blackened skin. "And I am whole again, all thanks to the two of you. And now that I am, I'm going to place this world under my heel, where it belongs. And as for you two… well, I still owe Hans a wish." It bared its teeth.

Anna was thinking rapidly. "Agahnim –" she began.

But the beast roared suddenly in interruption, and lifted its fists into the air. "I am not Agahnim!" it bellowed. It spread its long, bat-like wings so they touched the sides of the room. "Do not call me by that name anymore! I am something more! I am something greater! My strength eclipses the sun and stars! I am this world's eternal future, and forevermore shall  _all_  – beasts, men, and gods alike – know and fear my true name. I  _am_  magic! I  _am_  power! I am the almighty  **Ganon, King of Darkness!** "

Anna's heart was pounding, and her mind was swimming with the immensity of the demon before her. She wasn't sure why, but the more she looked at it, and the more she heard its words, the more and heavier a feeling of great despair came over her. She felt her hands begin to tremble, and a terrible, pained voice rose up in her head, whispering at first but then yelling, screaming, louder and louder –

Then she felt it: A soft, tight squeeze around her waist. Elsa was still there, and she… was alive.

"Stand back," said Anna quietly, turning her head slightly behind her.

"What?" said Elsa.

"I need you to stand back." She paused for a moment and steadied her voice. "Please."

Slowly, Anna felt Elsa's arms slide away, and she found, to her bitter realization, that she immediately missed their warmth. She took a deep breath and, thinking only of Elsa's survival, turned back to face the demon.

She held up her sword and shield. "Ganon!" she called. "I will stop you!"

" _You?"_  Ganon boomed. "And just what do you think  _you_  can do against  _me?_ My magic is all the power of an entire age poured into one. My magic is the magic of the Golden Power, a union of souls, an unbreakable bond, an invincible union forged of its many lesser parts. What do you have against that?"

"I have the sword!" yelled Anna, and she held up Wintersbane vigorously. "I have Wintersbane!"

To her moderate surprise, Ganon seemed unfazed. "You think that crooked piece of steel means anything to me?" he snarled. "It is corrupted by strife and weakness. That sword was a gift, and the man who received it killed the one who gave it to him. He even called it  _Wintersbane_  at my suggestion. Never can a sword that is so cursed be the end of me."

For a moment, Anna felt a sincere stab of doubt at these words. The sword, cursed? No, it couldn't be true – it  _must not_  be true. It was her only hope, the only chance she had. She cast a wary glance at the gleaming, bluish blade, which still seemed bright and resplendent even now.  _Corrupted by strife and weakness… and betrayal._

It hit her like a lightning bolt.

"You're wrong!" Anna shouted suddenly, lifting Wintersbane up and pointing it at Ganon. " _You're_  the one who's cursed!"

Ganon snorted, two jets of steam issuing from its nostrils. "What's that?" he growled.

"You're the one who's cursed!" Anna repeated. "This sword's debt has been paid! It  _was_  a blade of traitors once, but Elina and Andrew made amends! And they're here with me, now!" She shook the sword around, almost tauntingly, and could not help laughing a little. "They're  _back_ , Ganon! And they're not happy! Or should I still call you Agahnim?"

Ganon snorted again. "It matters not," he said. "That sword may have shattered me once, but not again. I know better, now; I am protected. You, on the other hand, have nothing to protect yourself against my magic –"

"But it's  _your magic_  that's cursed!" yelled Anna, and now she was not sure where the voice she was speaking with came from. Wintersbane was practically vibrating in her hand, and through it she seemed to hear the words she was shouting, even as she said them. "Right down to the Golden Power! Each one of your six renounced the task put to them before I killed them! They were bound to its protection against their will, and it was only after they were twisted and killed that the pieces could be reunited. Don't you get it?"

Ganon said nothing, but stared at Anna with a tense, dark silence.

Anna continued excitedly. " _You're_  the one who's cursed! The very foundation of your magic is in treachery and betrayal! And the one piece that was made master of all others, the one that was formed by the covenant that Elina made with her own brother – the guardian of that piece is with  _me_ , now! He's turned his back on his charge  _and_  you! You're all alone, and I have your makers with me! And if they made you," she flourished her blade, and it slashed the air with a very audible  _crack_ and a flash of light, "they can just as well  _un-make_  you!"

"Aaarrh!" roared Ganon.  _"It matters not!"_  He thrust out his hands, and, with a flash of black lightning, long, cruel blades, black as onyx, materialized in each of his hands. "I will kill you with my own two hands!  _En garde!"_

The tower rumbled, and Ganon lurched forward, Anna readying herself to meet him. He moved like liquid darkness, all but soaring forward as he lifted both blades high into the air. Anna met their falling arc with her shield, and a terrible, deafening  _clang_  flooded through the room – but still she held her ground.

"You think your  _words_  matter at all?" Ganon bellowed, and he jumped back before leaping forward, both of his blades fanned out to his sides and collapsing on Anna like a pair of pincers.

Anna met the left blade with her shield and the right with her sword, and still she held against his onslaught – though she felt a bead of sweat form on her forehead.

"You are  _nothing_  to me!" Ganon had reformed and attacked before Anna could react. Two quick jabs flew at her, and while she blocked the first, she could not parry the second in time. She felt her breath rush out of her lungs as she was lifted off the ground and launched backwards.

She hit the ground and groaned, her eyes screwed shut with pain. Ganon was above her by the time she had re-opened her eyes, and both his blades were raised.  _"Nothing!"_

" _GET AWAY FROM MY SISTER!"_

Next moment, a scintillating bolt of ice and snow rocketed across the room, smashing into Ganon with such force that he stumbled backwards, howling with pain.

_Elsa…?_

Anna turned her head to see; it was Elsa, standing poised like some warrior, her arms extended, and her face a terrifying portrait of furious anger.

Elsa lifted her arms, and then lashed them against the air like whips, and another bolt of ice emerged from her outstretched fingers to slam into Ganon. He screamed again, and, as Anna looked, she noticed the attacks had changed him. Ganon was now covered in frost, and as blue as pond water. He did not move a single muscle, and the golden triangle on his hand pulsed and throbbed against its frosty covering with an odd furtiveness.

Anna forced herself to her feet and broke into a dead run. Screaming with rage, she brought the tip of her sword down on Ganon's hand.

The effect was immediate. The frosty covering melted instantly, and light burst from the symbol like an uncovered lantern. It flooded the room, and as Anna pulled her sword free, Ganon reared up, howling. He backed away with great speed, and his form became blurry. Then, just as Hans had done earlier, he collapsed into the ground in a puddle of shadow. It flew across the floor to the other side of the room, where Ganon rose once more.

He had discarded the two knives, and the hand that Anna had stabbed was now smoking ominously, the foul, black outline of a triangle where the golden symbol had once been. In his other hand, he held a long, silvery trident with three wickedly sharp points.

He seemed to be panting, if, indeed, Anna was not imagining it. Furtive jets of steam issued from his nose in quick succession. His beady, red eyes focused on Elsa. Then, abruptly, he raised his trident, and, with a snorting battle-cry, charged straight for Elsa.

Ignoring the stitch in her chest, Anna ran to intercept. She jumped the last distance and threw the edge of her sword into the space between the tines on Ganon's trident, jerking him back. He roared and gave a mighty thrust, but still Anna held.

"Elsa!" she called. "Again! Do it again!"

She did not have to say any more. Another bolt of ice, this one stronger and more fervent than the ones before, sailed over her head and smashed into Ganon's face. Once again, frost covered him all over, and his skin turned blue.

Anna found it instantly: the golden triangle had formed on his other hand. She pulled her sword free of the trident and stabbed the glowing symbol.

The light stung Anna's eyes, and she grit her teeth and twisted the blade before jerking it free. Ganon jumped backwards with an unearthly scream, and, much faster than before, melted again. The shadow seemed uncertain of where to go – it darted around the room like a leaf on fast-blowing wind. The clouds outside flashed and cracked with white lightning and horrid thunder.

Suddenly, Anna felt her legs wobble. Although she tried to resist, she fell, weakly, to one knee. What was happening? She swore she could feel her strength leaving her, feel it as though it was leaking out through her every pore. Every breath was harder to draw than the one before it, and everything had become very dark.

"Anna!"

Anna looked up. When had she closed her eyes? Elsa was kneeling right next to her, he eyes wide.

"I'm fine," said Anna hoarsely. "I just…"

She tried to stand, but she could not.

"Anna." Elsa was staring at Anna's face. "Your skin…"

Anna looked down. Through the tear in her tunic, she saw her skin had turned a light, pale blue – and, she realized, she could barely feel or move her fingers anymore.

Anna opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. A dark laugh echoed across the room.

"You'll lose her," it said savagely. "And then you'll be all alone again."

Ganon had reformed himself, and he stood at the other end of the room, the backs of both of his hands smoking now. He was advancing on Elsa and Anna, and his face seemed shrewder and meaner now. And on his forehead, clearer than anything else, a small, golden triangle was glowing.

But while Anna watched the approaching demon, Elsa's eyes were fixed on Anna – still wide, still afraid.

"You're killing her," said Ganon. "Long before you've finished me, your precious Anna will be dead and dust."

"Elsa," croaked Anna, swallowing a quick-forming lump in her throat, "don't listen to him…"

"Do you deny it?" Ganon was much closer now. He was holding his trident with both hands, and lifting it steadily into the air. "Are you not dying?"

But Elsa was still not moving – was still staring at Anna. "Anna… I can't…"

" _Elsa!"_

With every last ounce of strength left to her, Anna rose to her feet, shield held up to block the falling trident. It  _clanged_  against the surface of her shield and rebounded.

" _NOW!"_

It was a moment of hesitation, and, for the first time yet, Anna felt tears behind her eyes, and the slightest surge of pity rose in her throat. The icy bolt spiraled through the air, a wild, arcing trajectory that Anna had definitely seen and met before – and Anna felt the cold radiate from it and smother her. Ganon was frozen again, his face mere inches from her head, and Anna lifted Wintersbane and thrust it into his head.

Everything exploded. Light filled the room, and then darkness, and Anna felt her sword shudder and vibrate with impossible energy. It felt like she was being lifted, hoisted high into the air, and then…

She was falling, falling into darkness. Wherever she looked, all was black, but for her hands and body.

She hit the ground suddenly, though not roughly. When she was sure that the surface below her was solid, she pushed herself to her feet and stood again.

Feet away, a solid circle of white light rested on the ground, in the middle of it a markedly fractured and dirty-looking black triangle. It looked like it had been wrought from iron and left to rust for many long centuries, and Anna stared at it for a long time.

"A fitting end, I think," came a cool, quiet voice from her side.

Anna did not start, but she turned her head slightly. "Elina?"

Elina was standing at Anna's side, barefoot, in a short white dress that reached the ends of her knees. She raised a hand and brushed a lock of flaxen hair behind her shoulder. She gave Anna a little smile. "Well done."

Anna blinked. "What happened?" she asked. "Where am I?"

Elina turned her head to look at the white circle. "You finished it," she said simply. "You finished what my brother and I started."

Anna hesitated. "And where am I, now?"

"You are where you were," said Elina. "You have not gone anywhere. You ought to ask me what you are looking at."

Anna blinked again, but this time, when she reopened her eyes, the all-encompassing darkness did not seem so dark. She could just make out faint, gray shapes, like shadows on a wall, undulating about the perimeter in which she and Elina stood. One shadow rose above the rest and grew in size, becoming at last the silhouette of a wolf, one that bolted away as soon as Anna recognized it.

"Aren?"

It wasn't just her; the next shadow had a long neck, and it sprouted tremendous wings that seemed to pulse the air. This one did not fly away, but stood still as it seemed to stare at Anna.

One by one, the others appeared, too: the giant, many-tentacled body of Hafgufa; the small, stunted orb of Jalhrimnir; the slight, nymph-like figure of Chione; and, at last, the tall, broad-shouldered silhouette of Andrew.

Then, as one, they all seemed to rise into the air; higher and higher they went, until they disappeared into the void and Anna could see them no more.

"It is a sad lot for a soul that can never leave the world," murmured Elina. "Immortal though they be, they were not meant to linger in the material plane. Every soul that visits must return home some day." She looked up into the darkness, and her eyes reflected the blackness with a strange totality. "I sometimes wonder what on earth I was thinking." She turned back to Anna and smiled slightly. "You have done very well."

Anna, though she felt the sincerity and goodness in Elina's voice, did not feel the compliment. Her heart felt hard and heavy, and as Elina continued to smile at her, only one thought persisted above the rest.

"Am I dead?" she asked softly.

Elina's mouth formed a line. To Anna's surprise, Elina reached out a hand and grasped Anna's, squeezing it with strength that she felt even through her gauntlet. "Does death frighten you?"

"Yes," admitted Anna at once, and, in spite of herself, she felt her throat grow tight. "I don't want to die. Not yet. Not now."

Elina squeezed again. "I don't know what it looks like," she said. "I haven't taken that road yet. I'll walk it with you, if you like." She inclined her head slightly. "But your time is not yet up."

Anna understood. To her surprise, her heart seemed to grow lighter, steadier. "Elsa," she said.

Elina gave a sad, sympathetic smile. "She has truly been very lucky."

But Anna shook her head, just a little bit. "No, she hasn't." She turned away from Elina to face the white door that she knew had appeared behind her. She took a step and reached for the marble-white handle. "I hope she can forgive me."

Through the door, all was light and color again.

She was in the tower room, fallen on her knees, and Ganon was gone. Feet in front of her, Hans was on his hands and knees, his head lolling around as in a daze. Distantly, there was a noise like a swarm of galloping horses, echoing up the stairwell outside.

Anna tried to move, but only ended up swaying. She did not hurt, nor feel cold – she simply did not feel anything.

"Anna!"

There was a flutter of white, and next moment, she saw the pale skin and the paler freckles, and eyes of that most precious blue.

Anna blinked. For a wonderful moment, she could make out Elsa's face in perfect clarity, and the only thought in her head was how very, very sad it was for there to be tears in those beautiful eyes.

"It's okay." Despite her weakness, she reached out a hand. Slowly, clumsily, she cradled Elsa's cheek. "You're okay."

The thundering gallop ended with a crashing sound, and blearily she could make out a progression of blurry shapes entering the room, shouting incoherently at one another – but Anna was looking at Elsa, who had pushed her face into Anna's outstretched hand, caressing the frozen gauntlet tenderly with both of her hands.

"Please don't die," she whimpered. "Please. Please. I… I can't… I… I love you." Tears spilled down her cheeks, cheeks so warm that Anna could feel it on her hand, feel it through the gauntlets – the only feeling that remained to her now, the warmth of Elsa's life.

And then, Anna smiled. She couldn't help herself. She had won the only victory that mattered. Whatever happened now, whatever darkness awaited her now, that mattered little against what she left behind. And although Anna knew that Elsa would grieve, she had her whole life left to learn to love again – Anna had made sure of that.

Her voice was quiet; her breath formed soft, gray mist on the cool, thin air: "I love you, too."

Her next breath did not come. Everything went white: an endless field of snow, soft and pure, cold and deserted, and the last thing that Anna knew.


	32. Epilogue

Queen Elsa awoke with a start. It was in the dead of night, and she was lying, awake, in her soft, azure bed. The stars and moon outside cast pale, milky light into her room, where everything was still.

Unable to sleep any more, Elsa sat up, threw the covers off, and slid out of bed. She walked over to the triangle-shaped window and sat on the sill, staring blankly into the space beyond. The sky was very dark, and the stars twinkled very prettily. Below, the city and the fjord were dark and quiet, and past those were the green fields of the dale.

It was not the first time, in the eternity that seemed to pass since that day, when Elsa found herself here, at this window, staring at a world so large and small; a world so large that Elsa could not see it all, and a world so small that it could fit in the palm of her hands. This, she knew from her long years of tutelage, was the great paradox of the monarch. The monarch must rule and make decisions for the lives of others, more than she could count even in a lifetime, although she may not know the life for whom she decides, nor the ultimate path it traces across the skeins of fate.

"There is no heavier job," her father had said; "and no greater calling."

And Elsa had asked, because she did not understand, "Why do we rule?"

"Because they let us."

"But why do  _we_  rule?"

"Ah." He had ruffled his mustache. "Because of our name."

It had been so very long ago that Elsa had thought on those words, and longer still that she had first heard them. But they came to mind often these days, and accompanied a persistent revision, a new question that she asked every day and night, but for which there was no answer: "Why  _me?_ "

She did not know why, but she felt the stars would know, if any would, for it was with the stars that all this had begun. The stars that granted wishes, as they surely ought, no matter who you were. The stars that had answered her prayers before, and could answer them again.

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the cool pane of glass.

She whispered, "Please, bring my sister back to me."

She sat like that for a long time, before she pulled away from the window and opened her eyes again. She stared silently at the dark, calm sky, and still the stars twinkled, and the wind blew, and night turned into day.

* * *

The day had come that all had anticipated – not just those in the Arenborg, but all those in Crystalwater and the kingdom at large. The news had spread like wild-fire of the fall of Lord Hans and the end of the Long Winter, and as the sun shined its handsome face once more upon a land long-starving for want of it, an entire country seemed to wake and rise as one, stirring like a bear from a deep winter's slumber. In unity, they cried for the blood of the tyrant.

The excitement was palpable in the air itself. Queen Elsa walked down the long corridors that lay between her tower and the throne room. Once there, she would preside as her small council interviewed the prisoner; and then she would issue her judgment. But as far as she was concerned, the matter was already settled, and it was her bitterest regret that there was no sentence harsh or strong enough to undo what had been done.

She entered the throne room to a cacophony of applause. How different the court looked, now that so many of its members had been replaced. Her eyes immediately snapped to the familiar Lord Hugoss, seated at his place at the small council table, his face sallow but his eyes burning. Next to him was Sissil Morey the godswife – a survivor, that one – and Kai, the Master of Letters. And then there were the new faces: Ser Martin Olaf, the Marshall – his face hard and his beard brown; Lady Maple Linnaeus, the Court "Wizard" (an inappropriate term, as she was wont to say, but a title was a title); Ser Flynt, the Captain of the Guard; and, finally, seated in the middle was her Chancellor, the young Lady Ysmir Corel – the one whom all called "the Valkyrie."

Lady Corel was seated upright with her hands clasped together. She was a hard sort, shrewd and calculating, much like her mother – not, in other words, a warm person. But then, neither was Elsa.

They rose at her entry and bowed as one. "Your Grace," greeted Ser Martin, "the prisoner is being brought up from the dungeons to stand trial as we speak."

"Very good," said Elsa tersely as she strode purposefully across the room. "I do not want a repeat of yesterday's trial. You are my own small council, and you can do better than that."

Despite her words and tone, the various councilors flashed knowing grins at one another. Even Lady Corel's lip twitched. The sentencing of Lord Myles had been almost farcical, but then Elsa felt little sympathy for the man anyway. His time, and the time of his son's, would be well-spent in the town stocks.

Elsa climbed the dais and sat straight-backed in the stone throne. How odd it felt to be presiding over court again. It had been months, but the novelty, the queer nostalgia, refused to subside. There was little surprise there, however: something was missing, after all.

Not long after, the doors to the throne room opened and in strode a contingent of at least twelve men, eight of them flanking the four who held the ragged, decrepit, red-haired man between them.

Elsa's hands curled into fists, but she kept it under control. Hisses emerged from the crowd of courtiers lining the walls, and a few audible curses could be heard as well. To their credit, her small council was keeping silent.

The men dragged the gray-faced man to the center of the room, where they let go. He wobbled weakly in place, his hands chained together by the wrist, and stared with baleful emptiness at the table in front of him.

Lady Corel leaned forward in her chair. "I'm surprised you haven't managed to magic yourself out of here, my lord," she said coolly.

Hans did not respond. He spat on the ground and glared at Lady Corel, who gave a thin, mirthless smile. Of course, she remembered, too. She was there.

" _Unhand me, you swine!"_

_Hans struggled against the soldiers that had grabbed his arms. Elsa's eyes were still sodden, and they streamed with tears as she looked at him now. He lifted his arms…_

_She had screamed with rage. She felt the energy course through her, saw the world change its shape, and her mind said the words before she was even aware of it._

_She was standing and the men who had been holding Hans were thrown back. Ice had erupted from the floor of the tower room to encase his hands and legs, and he struggled fruitlessly against their restraints._

_And then, his eyes grew wide. "My magic…"_

" _You won't be using my magic anymore," Elsa growled darkly. She was bubbling with rage. She raised her hand to finish it, and then felt the firm grasp on her wrist._

_Anna's squire. He looked older now. Anna's squire…_

Elsa cleared her throat loudly. "Ser Martin, you may proceed with the charges."

Ser Martin stood, and unrolled a roll of parchment that had been sitting on the table. He peered at it for a moment, and then began speaking in a loud, deliberate voice.

"Prince Hans," he announced to the room at large, "you stand accused of conspiring against Her Majesty Queen Elsa of Arendelle, the First of Her Name, the Ice-Blood, and the crown and people of the Kingdom of Arendelle. You further stand accused of perjury, of instigating rebellion, of masterminding the assassination of the late King Agdar and his wife, the former Queen-Consort of Arendelle, and of fomenting war between the Kingdom of Arendelle and the neighboring Duchy of Weselton. Add to this list the deaths of countless more – lords and ladies, knights and peasants – in whose killing you were complicit if not downright responsible."

The entire throne room had started hurling jeers at Hans, who only stared hatefully back. When the noise had died down, he rose his voice. "Is that all?"

"Hardly," injected Lady Corel, as Ser Martin sat down again. Her voice was smooth and soft as butter. "You further stand accused of precipitating, through dark and unspeakable sorceries, the Long Winter to which all in the kingdom were held hostage." She said the words with apparent relish, and none could fail to notice the smirk that formed on her face.

Hans spat again, and gave a short, derisive snort. "That winter wasn't me," he growled.

"The evidence is insurmountable," said Lady Corel. "I trust you know the punishment for practicing dark magic in this country."

"It wasn't me," he snarled, and then, quite suddenly, changed tacks. "Why bother charging me on this? Is the punishment for treason and murder not enough?"

At this, Lady Corel grinned with definite relish, and looked half a predator as she said, slyly, "Your father will want to know what's happened here, won't he? You know this, I'm sure. I expect some clemency on that count is your only hope at this point. But nobody from here to Nassau would even open their mouth if they knew it was a dark wizard we were executing, and not just some spoiled brat from the isles."

Hans grunted. "Well, the storm wasn't my doing," he said, and his voice was a pitch higher now. "If you want someone to charge for  _that,_  look no further than your precious queen. She's a witch, you know!" His voice soared into the upper registers, and his body convulsed as he all but screamed, "A  _WITCH!"_

The entire small council burst into laughter, and Hans's face melted with furious disappointment. Lady Corel cleared her throat and sat back in her chair. "That is quite a claim, my lord," she said with a tone of airy concern. "I will investigate."

She turned around in her seat and locked eyes with Elsa. "Your Grace, are you a dark, evil witch?"

Elsa forced a smile and replied, automatically, "Not that I know of, my lady."

Lady Corel turned back around with a smile of her own. "I have concluded my investigation," she announced. "As the Chancellor of Arendelle, my verdict is that you, Prince Hans, are guilty of all the charges that have been filed against you."

The throne room erupted into raucous noise as all started jeering at Hans, whose face was white as a sheet – noise that only died down when Ser Martin banged the table with a fist. "Guilty is the verdict!" he cried. "All opposed?"

None said a word, and Ser Martin banged the table again. "Very well, then!" he declared, and the throne room burst into noise once more. "Prince Hans is found guilty of far too many crimes to count! Your Grace, what should the punishment be?"

"A month in the stocks," said Elsa at once. "Keep him watered; I'm sure the townsfolk will keep him fed. Afterwards, we'll put that Royal Executioner title of yours to good work, my lady." She gave Lady Corel a punctual nod, one the lady returned with an unconcealed grin.

Lord Hans was taken away, all but dragged from the room by the soldiers surrounding him, his face a mask of pointless fury. When he had gone, Elsa stood, and the rest of the small council stood as well. With a wave of Elsa's hand, the court was dismissed. She stepped down the dais and was met by Lady Corel, who placed a fist over her heart in salute.

She greeted Elsa quietly, her demeanor grim again now that Hans had been taken away. She was tall, and dressed in long, padded violet robes. All around, courtiers were speaking to one another as they filtered out of the room, and the other councilors were absorbed in their own conversations. "Your Grace, I only wanted to ask if you still meant to…"

_The Valkyrie knelt. She was at the head of a column, no; a battalion of men and women at arms. They had to be at least two or three hundred of them crowding the throne room, and all of them bowed as she did._

_She pulled a long sword from her belt and placed the tip of it against the floor. The sound of scraping steel against leather filled the room as others did like._

" _Your Grace, my sword is yours."_

_Elsa kept a still face. She looked down on the Valkyrie and her men as impassively as she could. It was odd; ironic, almost, that in another context, she would be at the mercy of this band of warriors. But here they were, though they outnumbered her three hundred-to-one, bending their knees and swearing their fealty, after nearly two years of civil war, strife, and conflict. How much her name seemed to mean, that those long, dark months seemed a dream, now._

_When the Valkyrie stood again, Elsa lifted her chin and addressed her in the name of ceremony: "Lady Corel of the Wings, I name thee Chancellor of the Kingdom of Arendelle."_

_Appreciative sounds murmured from the crowd, and all rose and said, in an uneven chorus, "Long live Queen Elsa! Long live the Valkyrie!"_

_Later, the moon rose on a warm, green midsummer. The city and castle were alight with celebration, and amidst the dancing and the revelry, Elsa was reminded inextricably of her coronation: of the feasting and the partying that had taken place that August day almost two years ago; of the young, red-haired woman that Elsa had long since lost hope she'd ever see again._

_It was lucky that so many were so distracted by dancing and drinking to notice the tears that had rolled down her cheeks. But Lady Corel had noticed, and she moved very quickly. Elsa remembered being helped out of her seat and guided away, remembered seeing her violet eyes glow with concern – no, empathy._

_She had held Elsa until the tears dried. Elsa wiped her cheeks with her sleeves. "I'm sorry," she said, barely keeping from choking. "You shouldn't have seen that."_

" _There is no shame in loving someone," Lady Corel said quietly. "I also know what it is like to lose a loved one."_

_A spasm of guilt filled Elsa's heart. "I… I am…"_

_Lady Corel cut her off with a tender squeeze to the shoulder. "I know. I'm sorry, too."_

"Yes," said Elsa tersely. "The summer is almost over."

Lady Corel nodded, hesitating slightly, then seemed to compose herself. "There is some news regarding the succession crisis in Weselton," she said, changing the subject, "I've received word that the baron of the Dyngehus is interested in replacing House Weselton with another interested party, and has assembled a conspiracy to this effect." She inclined her head slightly. "He implied that House Linnaeus might have a claim."

Elsa had to keep from laughing. "Your wife is going to be a very powerful woman."

"She already is." Lady Corel smiled slightly and bowed her head. "By your leave."

Elsa nodded and watched as her Chancellor walked away to begin talking to her wife, the Court Wizard. No sooner was the conversation ended than Ser Martin approached, bearing a long, thin package of gunnysacking in his arms.

"Your Grace," he said, dipping his chin. He wore his leather armor, painted on the front with the insignia he had taken for his own: a black mountain, tipped with snow. "I've brought what you asked for."

_She was in her room, hours after it had happened. It was mid-morning, Midsummer Day, and the city was being secured by the Valkyrie's forces. The castle was taken and, all over Crystalwater, City Watch were waking as if from deep sleeps, confused, lost, and frightened._

" _Don't do it," Ser Martin had said as he held her wrist. "My queen –"_

 _It was the look on his face that did it, that caused her to go limp, that brought the picture of what she really was to the front of her mind:_ a monster.

_She didn't remember anything after that. The Valkyrie's men carried her to her tower, sick with grief beyond reckoning. It was like her heart had been cut in two, and nothing – nothing – nothing – nothing at all was right._

_The grief washed over her in waves, and she lay drowning in moments and gasping in others between the vivid flashes of the nightmare that wouldn't end._

_She pinched herself, flung ice at the walls, rolled on the floor and bit her wrists so hard it left marks. At last, she rolled into a ball and lay sobbing, silently, on the ground._

_In her room, hours after it had happened. She watched a ray of sunlight creep across the carpet, let in by the large, triangular window that, for the first time in many months, felt the warmth of the sun._

_She didn't hear the door open. "Queen Elsa."_

_She unrolled her hands, and felt a slight pain in the crooks of her palms where her fingernails had been digging. Slowly, she pushed herself into a sitting position. The room swam before her, the bright morning light stinging her eyes, and Ser Martin knelt beside her._

" _Are you okay?"_

_Elsa couldn't bring herself to speak. Her voice stuck in her throat, and she shuddered violently. How could she begin? There were no words for what she felt, for the grief and fear and hatred that consumed her._

_Suddenly, her mouth was moving, and she heard her own voice dull and tinny in her ears. "I can't be your queen."_

_Ser Martin's brow knitted in puzzlement. "I'm sorry?"_

" _I can't do this" – she stopped abruptly, realizing that she did not know this man's name, the name of her squire. "I – I can't. I'm not fit to…"_

_Her body convulsed, and she screwed her eyes shut as she keeled over. "It should have been me," she whispered. "It should have been me."_

_Ser Martin did not immediately respond. She felt his presence, though; felt him kneeling there, unmoving. And then, softly, she heard his voice._

" _I can't begin to imagine how you must be feeling," he said. "But you should know that I trusted Ser Anna more than I have trusted or believed in anyone. I was her squire, you know; I am prouder of that fact than anything." He sighed. "Before we… well, she told me that she knew the wages of our mission here, and you should know she did not flinch in the face of that fact."_

_He paused, and for a long moment, Elsa thought he was done speaking. Then, "My father used to tell me that I had to go into the same line of work as him – mercenary, fighter. He said the most important thing a good mercenary had to know was that the best fighters are the ones that survive, and the ones that survive are the ones that keep their sense of self about them – the ones that don't get caught up in nonsense above their head. There were no true knights or paladins, he used to say, because they were the addled idealists who were the first to die – doomed fools, all of them. On the battlefield, all that mattered to a fighter was his life and his pay-day._

" _As a child, of course, I believed every word. When the kids in town attacked me, I really believed it was my own fault for being weak. And then, I met her. At first, I didn't really believe she was real, though I really wanted to. And now…" His voice shook a little, and he cleared his throat before continuing. "Now I know that he was wrong all along. Even in a world of mercenaries and selfish men, there were still true knights. Maybe they were doomed, maybe they were fools – but they were still there, and just by being there, they made the world worth living in."_

_Ser Martin stopped speaking, and Elsa raised her head to look at him. He was smiling, somewhat wistfully, and looking vaguely in the direction of the sun-filled window behind her. "She was the best of us," he said finally, "and she never stopped believing in you. So, too, with me." At this, he reached to his side and pulled a short, narrow sword off his belt, which he laid flat on the ground between them. "My sword is yours, my queen."_

"Thank you," said Elsa, and she accepted the package tenderly. It was heavy, and shifted in her grip.

"You're sure that you don't want help?" asked Ser Martin tentatively. He was truly a devoted man – he would make a good Lord Protector.

"No, thank you," said Elsa, and turned to go. "Meet me in my solar an hour from now."

"An hour?" Ser Martin rose an eyebrow, and immediately Elsa began to wonder if she underestimated the task.

"I may be late," she admitted with just a hint of sheepishness, "but I won't dawdle. An hour."

Ser Martin only nodded, so Elsa turned on her heel and left the throne room. Two guards rushed to take her side as she left, but she waved them off.

She left the castle and stepped into the warm, August air of the mid-day.

A leaf fell to the pavement in the castle courtyard, the first, no doubt, of many to fall that season. Soon, its brothers and sisters would join it in littering the earth, and they would fade into wind and soil, and then only ice would mark the spot as their grave.

Spring and summer had exploded out of Midsummer Day, when the clouds cleared and the storm ended, with more force and vigor than any thought possible. Crops thought long-dead and buried under years of snow burst from the ground, branches heavy with an abundant harvest, and all the forests began teeming with unprecedented lushness and life. It had been called the Miracle Spring, and the short, hot summer that followed was a season of celebration.

Elsa knelt and picked the leaf up off the ground. She looked at it, and spun it around by the stem. It whipped like a carousel until her fingers had completely crossed one another, and then it whipped the other way as they moved back.

She tucked the leaf into her dress. When she was certain it was secure, she hefted her package and continued on through the gates.

The man at the gates saluted her. "Your Grace, will you require an escort?" He looked somewhat doubtful, anxious as he said it.

"No thank you, Ser," Elsa replied coolly.

The man relaxed visibly. "Very good, Your Grace."

She walked the cobbled path by the fjord, the field alive around her with the bright green colors of that fierce, short summer. It was a summer that had had too little time, yet in that time blazed more fiercely than any summer that had come before. A strong breeze came off the water, and Elsa paused to feel it on her skin. She liked the way the wind tousled her hair.

Her eyes lowered to the green fields. There was another reason this summer was remarkable, as well, as she looked at the dancing flowers. The golden crocuses swayed prettily in the breeze. August was usually marked by their paucity – but not this August. They didn't seem to want to go.

She continued down the path to the Royal Cemetery, where the grass and weeds had grown thick and ugly. Nobody came here anymore – by royal decree. She did not want to risk anything. It was – had been – her last hope. So much had she hoped the hot summer meant something, was a sign from the gods that her prayers were answered. Every night she went to sleep hoping that the next day would be the day it happened, and every morning she woke from a dream it was true. She had walked this path hundreds of times now. But now, she knew she wasn't dreaming. She held the package in her hands. The nightmare was real.

Elsa stared at it – no, her. Was she a statue, now? Could those eyes see anything, or were they as inert and lifeless as stone – as ice?

The statue looked exactly as she did when she spoke her final words. She was kneeling on a marble slab, held feet above the ground by a dark timber scaffold for better to catch the sunlight. But for all that, she was still unmoving, still an icy statue, her hand still outstretched to cradle a cheek it had died holding.

" _Here we are, again," said the prisoner._

_Elsa had dismissed her guards. It had been weeks. As she stared at him, the cold fury in her heart grew more and more pronounced._

" _Yes," she agreed, "here we are again."_

_Hans smiled thinly. The effect was somewhat ruined by his coarse beard and ragged look, but Elsa knew – better than most – that old habits died hard._

" _I suppose you want a confession out of me, then?"_

_Elsa wrinkled her nose. "Not quite. I don't need you to confess and, frankly, I don't care if you do. Neither does anyone else in my kingdom."_

_Hans snorted. "There's still my father," he said, a little vaguely._

_Elsa laughed. "Your_ loving _father, yes. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. No, I don't want a confession, Hans. I want to know…" She leaned forward. "Why?"_

_Hans looked nonplussed. "Why? Why not? There are only a handful of ways to become rich and powerful, and fewer still that are legal."_

_Elsa glared at him, still, leaving unspoken the real object of her anger. She wanted to will in him the pain and suffering that she felt now, at ten thousand times. But she very much doubted if Hans had ever loved anyone. It was with genuine despair that she reflected there was no punishment at all that would serve for him._

" _Or is that really the question you're asking me?" he went on. "Are you mad because your sister is dead?"_

 _The cold fury bubbled with sudden heat._ No, _she thought,_ don't let it get to you…

" _Because I'm not the one you should be talking to, in that case. I'm not known for freezing much. You, on the other hand…"_

" _Shut. Up."_

 _Hans grinned. "I don't know what you're so upset about. You should embrace it. For millennia hence, bards and poets will speak of these days as a second great winter. Me, I will go down as the dashing, handsome villain – and you, the heroic, rightful queen. If it's good enough for the history books, it should be good enough for you. Think of it:_ The Legend of Elsa, _they'll call it. And what a gripping tale it will be."_

_Elsa exploded. Ice scattered across the walls and floors, and the temperature in the dungeons plunged below freezing. Hans's grin vanished and he retreated to the corner of his cell, where he wrapped himself in moldy, old sheets._

_But there was nothing Elsa could say. She left the dungeon consumed with hatred – not for him, but for herself._

Elsa composed herself. It had been months. Her fingers played at the edges of the gunnysack package in her hands. She promised she wouldn't dawdle.

"Well, here I am," she said lamely.

The statue did not respond.

Elsa bit her lower lip. She promised she wouldn't dawdle. "It's funny," she said anyway, "most of these past few years has been you coming to me, hasn't it? Now here I am, coming to you, and you're…"

The statue did not respond. It was still smiling and staring blankly.

"I tried everything," she said defensively. "Well… not everything. I can think of one other thing that might… but… I'm afraid." Her gaze flickered away. "There's no guarantee that my death would bring you back, anyway. And I can't… I can't just leave all these people."

Even though she knew the statue couldn't hear, and wouldn't answer, the words still felt meaningless,  _vacant_.

"Not like you did." She said it with more venom than she meant, and her heart twisted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I know why you did it. I just…" She swallowed. "I just wish it didn't have to be so."

She stared down at the package in her hands. "The second time we kissed," she said slowly, "I, uh, I liked that one better, I think. I didn't feel as bad about that one. It felt surreal, really. When you asked me to kiss, I couldn't believe it. I wanted more. Not just kisses, but… you." She looked up again. "I wanted more time with you."

The statue smiled.

"I wasted  _so_  much time not spent with you, because I was afraid of what being with you would do to you. You know what? It turns out I was right, but…" She laughed darkly, hating herself more profoundly than ever. "I don't care about that, right now. If I could do it all over again, I'd have kept you close from the start."

A weary, acidic feeling settled in her stomach, and she exhaled heavily. "I guess that's the difference between you and me," she said, and now she really, truly felt the finality overcome her. "I'm selfish, and you're the best of us."

She blinked, and, tears in her eyes, lifted a hand. She grabbed the statue's cold, outstretched fingers, and held them for several long moments.

She dropped her hand and went to the package. She undid the fastening and undressed the contents within: a long, blue-hilted sword with a scintillating silver blade, and a shovel.

Elsa set the shovel aside, and held the sword in her other hand. "I thought it would be fitting if you took your sword with you," she explained. "And I thought, since I'm the one who killed you, it was my job to… bury you."

Elsa considered the sword for a moment, and then the pedestal on which Anna knelt. She supposed that, at least for as long as it took to dig the grave, the sword might as well be close to its owner. Briefly, she wondered if there was some way to fix it in Anna's outstretched hand – but no, that would be grotesque. She'd place it at Anna's knees.

She took a single step and tripped on the hem of her dress.

With a cry, she fell forwards, her arms flailing in the air. The sword swung up, and then down, and she heard an unmistakable  _crack_  as the edge of the sword slammed against the frozen statue.

A flash blinded Elsa, and she felt the sword fly from her hands. Stumbling, she fell backwards just as another  _crack_  split the air and the marble pedestal shattered.

Colored dots filled her vision as a warm body collapsed on top of her.

Her heart started hammering wildly as she heard someone gasp. She strained to see, and then, suddenly, very clearly, she did.

She tried to speak, but it felt like too many words were forcing their way up through her throat for any one to make it out.

"Elsa…?"

Anna was lying on top of her, her piercing blue eyes blinking furiously between bouts of staring at Elsa's. Their faces were inches apart.

Elsa started feeling queasy, feverish.  _No_ , she thought,  _not another dream, not_ another _dream…_

Anna pushed herself up slightly, and then Elsa knew.

The sword.  _The sword._  Anna was flesh and color once more, and it was all thanks to…

"The sword," breathed Elsa, and she burst into tears.

She launched herself into a sitting position, throwing Anna back as she did. Without restraint or inhibition, she wrapped her arms around Anna's body and held her close and tight. If this was another dream, damned be if she was going to let it go.

"You're alive!" Elsa sobbed. "Oh my gods, Anna, you're  _alive._ "

Anna said nothing, and, for a moment, Elsa wondered if anything was wrong. She pulled back so that she could see Anna's face, though taking care not to unwrap her arms. Yes, it was still the face that she knew and loved, warmer and healthier, in fact, than ever she had seen it before – but very, very confused.

"I'm… alive?" she said quietly.

Elsa felt the sobs come again, and could only nod her affirmation. "Yes!" she burst. "Gods, yes!"

In that moment, it seemed to hit Anna too, for her eyes widened ever so slightly. "Of course. The sword." She held up her hands and looked at them, then carried a copper-strawberry braid over her shoulder and looked at it. "I'm cured," she said flatly. "Cured."

Then, without any warning, Anna threw herself against Elsa, and their lips locked together. But Elsa, who was lost to the sheer ecstasy of the revelation, could not respond in kind. She let Anna push her down, let her mouth be assaulted by clumsy, eager lips, and let her pull away when she was finished.

Elsa opened her eyes, and she saw Anna was as red as her hair. "Sorry," she said. "I just had to…"

"Don't apologize," said Elsa, breathlessly. "My gods, you're  _alive…_ "

Anna lifted herself off of Elsa and extended a hand to help her up, one Elsa gladly accepted. Together, they stood, and Anna held Elsa's arms as they gazed into one another's eyes.

"I'm the one who should apologize," said Elsa bitterly. "For everything. It was my fault that you…"

"No," said Anna, "it wasn't."

"But my magic…"

"Your magic didn't kill me," said Anna. "At any time, I could have walked away. But I never did – I didn't want to."

Elsa blinked stupidly. "But… why?"

Anna moved very close, and placed the tip of her forehead against Elsa's. "Because I love you," she said softly.

Elsa closed her eyes and, for a blissful moment, enjoyed the feel of Anna in her arms. It was almost too much, too much to know that this wasn't a dream, this was  _real_. All of the thousands of thoughts and regrets of the past few months surged forth, the hopes, the missed opportunities, the promises…

As suddenly as a lightning strike, she remembered.

Elsa opened her eyes and squeezed Anna's arms tightly. "Anna!"

Anna opened her eyes as well, and blinked a few times. "What?"

"Come with me! Quickly!"

Not letting go of Anna's arm, Elsa pulled her along behind her, passing the tombstones on the way out of the cemetery. She climbed the small hill at the cemetery's edge and crested it, sweeping her braid behind her ear as she looked at the fields beyond."I promised you!" she said, and turned to look down the opposite slope.

Anna gasped. Fields and fields of golden crocuses, swaying in the breeze – the golden flower, the sigil of Crystalwater and Anna's heraldry, the spring flower that had waited all until August for this moment alone.

"They're beautiful," Anna murmured. She tore her eyes from the scene at the same time Elsa did. Neither said a word. Elsa lifted a hand to cup Anna's cheek, and Anna did the same for her. As they drew together, Elsa brought her lips to Anna's. Her heart was never lighter nor freer, and, for the first time in forever, all was right in the world.

~ THE END ~


End file.
